CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


A    GOOD    FIGHT, 


AND  OTHER  TALES. 


BY    CHARLES    READE, 

AUTHOR  OF 

'LOVE  ME  LITTLE,  LOVE  ME  LONG,"  "PEG  WOPFINGTON, 
"  CHRISTIE  JOHNSTONE,"  &c.,  &c. 


Ittitl)  Illttstrationo. 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1859. 


A  GOOD  FIGHT. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  THIEF. 
JACK  OF  ALL  TRADES. 


A  GOOD  FIGHT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

NOT  a  day  passes  over  the  earth  but  men  and  women 
of  no  note  do  great  deeds,  speak  great  words,  and  suffer 
noble  sorrows.  Of  these  obscure  heroes,  philosophers, 
and  martyrs,  the  greater  part  will  never  be  known  till 
that  day,  when  many  that  are  great  shall  be  small,  and 
the  small  great :  but  of  others  the  world's  knowledge 
may  be  said  to  sleep.  Their  lives  and  characters  lie  hid- 
den from  nations  in  the  very  annals  that  record  them. 
The  general  reader  can  not  feel  them,  they  are  presented 
so  curtly  and  coldly :  they  are  not  like  breathing  stories 
appealing  to  his  heart,  but  little  historic  hailstones  strik- 
ing him  only  to  glance  off  his  bosom :  nor  can  he  under- 
stand them ;  for  epitomes  are  not  narratives,  as  skeletons 
are  not  human  figures. 

Thus  records  of  prime  truths  sometimes  remain  a  dead 
letter  to  plain  folk ;  the  writers  have  left  so  much  to  the 
imagination,  and  imagination  is  so  rare  a  gift.  Here, 
then,  the  writer  of  fiction  may  be  of  use  to  the  public — 
as  an  interpreter. 

There  is  a  musty  chronicle,  written  in  tolerable  Latin, 
and  in  it  a  chapter  where  every  sentence  holds  a  fact. 
Here  is  told,  with  harsh  brevity,  the  strange  history  of 
a  pair,  who  lived  untrumpeted,  and  died  unsung,  four 
hundred  years  ago;  and  lie  now,  as  unpitied,  in  that 
stern  page,  as  fossils  in  a  rock.  Thus,  living  or  dead, 
fate  is  still  unjust  to  them.  Yet  if  I  can  but  show  you 
what  is  involved  in  that  dry  chronicler's  words,  methinks 


4  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

you  will  correct  the  indifference  of  centuries,  and  give 
those  sore-tried  souls  a  place  in  your  heart — for  a  few 
weeks. 

• 

It  was  past  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Louis 
XI.  was  sovereign  of  France ;  Edward  IV.  was  wrongful 
King  of  England ;  and  Philip  "  the  Good,"  having  by 
force  and  cunning  dispossessed  his  cousin  Jacqueline,  and 
broken  her  heart,  reigned  undisturbed  this  many  years 
in  Holland,  where  our  tale  begins. 

Gerard,  and  Catherine  his  wife,  lived  in  the  little  town 
of  Tergou.  He  traded,  wholesale  and  retail,  in  cloth, 
silk,  brown  holland,  and,  above  all,  in  curried  leather,  a 
material  highly  valued  by  the  middling  people,  because 
it  would  stand  twenty  years'  wear,  and  turn  a  knife  if 
not  fresh  sharpened ;  no  small  virtue  in  a  jerkin  of 
that  century,  in  which  folk  were  so  liberal  of  their  steel : 
even  at  dinner  a  man  would  leave  his  meat  awhile,  and 
carve  you  his  neighbor,  on  a  very  moderate  difference  of 
opinion. 

The  couple  were  well  to  do,  and  would  have  been  free 
from  all  earthly  care,  but  for  nine  children.  When  these 
were  coming  into  the  world,  one  per  annum,  each  was 
hailed  with  rejoicings,  and  the  Saints  were  thanked,  not 
expostulated  with ;  and  when  parents  and  children  were 
all  young  together,  the  latter  were  looked  upon  as  lovely 
little  playthings  invented  by  Heaven  for  the  amusement, 
joy,  and  evening  solace,  of  people  in  business. 

But  as  the  olive  branches  shot  up,  and  the  parents 
grew  older,  and  saw  with  their  own  eyes  the  fate  of 
large  families,  misgivings  and  care  mingled  with  their 
love.  They  belonged  to  a  singularly  wise  and  provident 
people :  in  Holland  reckless  parents  were  as  rare  as  dis- 
obedient children.  So  now  when  the  huge  loaf  came  in 
on  a  gigantic  trencher,  looking  like  a  fortress  in  its  moat, 
and,  the  tour  of  the  table  once  made,  seemed  to  have 
melted  away,  Gerard  and  Catherine  would  look  at  one 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  5 

another  and  say,  "Who  is  to  find  bread  for  them  all 
when  we  are  gone?" 

At  this  observation  the  younger  ones  needed  all  their 
filial  respect,  to  keep  their  little  Dutch  countenances; 
for  in  their  humble  opinion  dinner  and  supper  came  by 
nature  like  sunrise  and  sunset,  and,  so  long  as  that  lu- 
minary should  travel  round  the  earth,  so  long  must  the 
brown  loaf  go  round  their  family  circle,  and  set  in  their 
stomachs  only  to  rise  again  in  the  family  oven.  But  the 
remark  awakened  the  national  thoughtfulness  of  the  elder 
boys,  and  being  often  repeated  set  several  of  the  family 
thinking,  some  of  them  good  thoughts,  some  ill  thoughts, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  thinkers. 

"  Kate,  the  children  grow  so,  this  table  will  soon  be 
too  small." 

"We  can  not  afford  it,  Gerard,"  replied  Catherine, 
answering  not  his  words,  but  his  thought,  after  the  man- 
ner of  women. 

Their  anxiety  for  the  future  took  at  times  a  less  dismal 
but  more  mortifying  turn.  The  free  burghers  had  their 
pride  as  well  as  the  nobles ;  and  these  two  could  not  bear 
that  any  of  their  blood  should  go  down  in  the  burgh  after 
their  decease. 

So  by  prudence  and  self-denial  they  managed  to  clothe 
all  the  little  bodies,  and  feed  all  the  great  mouths,  and  yet 
put  by  a  small  hoard  to  meet  the  future ;  and,  as  it  grew, 
and  grew,  they  felt  a  pleasure  the  miser  hoarding  for  him- 
self knows  not. 

One  day  the  eldest  boy  but  one,  aged  nineteen,  came 
to  his  mother,  and,  with  that  outward  composure  which 
has  so  misled  some  persons  as  to  the  real  nature  of  this 
people,  begged  her  to  intercede  with  his  father  to  send 
him  to  Amsterdam,  and  place  him  with  a  merchant. 
"It  is  the  way  of  life  that  likes  me:  merchants  are 
wealthy ;  I  am  good  at  numbers ;  prithee,  good  mother, 
take  my  part  in  this,  and  I  shall  ever  be,  as  I  am  now, 
your  debtor." 


6  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

Catherine  threw  up  her  hands  with  dismay  and  in- 
credulity. "  What,  leave  Tergou !" 

"What  is  one  street  to  me  more  than  another?  If 
I  can  leave  the  folk  of  Tergou,  I  can  surely  leave  the 
stones." 

"  What !  abandon  your  poor  father  now  he  is  no  longer 
young  ?" 

"  Mother,  if  I  can  leave  you,  I  can  leave  him." 

"  What,  leave  your  poor  brothers  and  sisters,  that  love 
you  so  dear  ?" 

"  There  are  enough  in  the  house  without  me." 

"  What  mean  you,  Kichart  ?  Who  is  more  thought  of 
than  you  ?  Stay,  have  I  spoken  sharp  to  you  ?  Have  I 
been  unkind  to  you  ?" 

"  Never  that  I  know  of;  and  if  you  had,  you  should 
never  hear  of  it  from  me.  Mother,"  said  Richart  grave- 
ly, but  the  tear  was  in  his  eye,  "  it  all  lies  in  a  word. 
And  nothing  can  change  my  mind.  There  will  be  one 
mouth  less  for  you  to  feed." 

"There  now,  see  what  my  tongue  has  done,"  said 
Catherine,  and  the  next  moment  she  began  to  cry.  For 
she  saw  her  first  young  bird  on  the  edge  of  the  nest  try- 
ing his  wings,  to  fly  into  the  world.  Richart  had  a  calm, 
strong  will,  and  she  knew  he  never  wasted  a  word. 

It  ended  as  nature  has  willed  all  such  discourse  shall 
end :  young  Richart  went  to  Amsterdam  with  a  face  so 
long  and  sad  as  it  had  never  been  seen  before,  and  a  heart 
like  granite. 

That  afternoon  at  supper  there  was  one  mouth  less. 
Catherine  looked  at  Richart's  chair  and  wept  bitterly. 
On  this  Gerard  shouted  roughly  and  angrily  to  the 
children,  "  sit  wider !  can't  ye :  sit  wider !"  and  turned 
his  head  away  over  the  back  of  his  seat  awhile,  and  was 
silent. 

Richart  was  launched ;  and  never  cost  them  another 
penny :  but  to  fit  him  out  and  place  him  in  the  house  of 
Vander  Stegen  the  merchant  took  all  the  little  hoard  but 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  7 

one  gold  crown.  They  began  again.  Two  years  passed. 
Richart  found  a  niche  in  commerce  for  his  brother  Jacob, 
and  Jacob  left  Tergou  directly  after  dinner,  which  was 
at  eleven  in  the  forenoon.  At  supper  that  day  Gerard 
remembered  what  had  happened  the  last  time ;  so  he 
said  in  a  low  whisper,  "  sit  wider,  dears !"  Now  until 
that  moment,  Catherine  would  not  see  the  gap  at  table, 
for  her  daughter  Catherine  had  besought  her  not  to 
grieve  to-night  and  she  had  said,  "No,  sweetheart,  I 
promise  I  will  not,  since  it  vexes  my  children."  But 
when  Gerard  whispered  "sit  wider!"  says  she  "Ay! 
the  table  will  soon  be  too  big  for  the  children :  and  you 
thought  it  would  be  too  small:"  and  having  delivered 
this  with  forced  calmness,  she  put  up  her  apron  the  next 
moment,  and  wept  sore. 

"  'Tis  the  best  that  leave  us,"  sobbed  she,  "  that  is  the 
cruel  part." 

"Nay!  nay!"  said  Gerard,  "our  children  are  good 
children,  and  all  are  dear  to  us  alike.  Heed  her  not ! 
What  God  takes  from  us  still  seems  better  than  what  he 
spares  to  us :  that  is  to  say,  men  are  by  nature  unthank- 
ful— and  women  silly." 

"  And  I  say  Richart  and  Jacob  were  the  flower  of  the 
flock,"  sobbed  Catherine. 

The  little  coffer  was  empty  again,  and  to  fill  it  they 
gathered  like  ants.  In  those  days  speculation  was  pretty 
much  confined  to  the  card-and-dice  business.  Gerard 
knew  no  way  to  wealth  but  the  slow  and  sure  one.  "A 
penny  saved  is  a  penny  gained,"  was  his  humble  creed. 
All  that  was  not  required  for  the  business,  and  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  went  into  the  little  coffer  with  steel  bands 
and  florid  key.  They  denied  themselves  in  turn  the 
humblest  luxuries,  and  then,  catching  one  another's  looks, 
smiled ;  perhaps  with  a  greater  joy  than  self-indulgence 
has  to  bestow.  And  so  in  three  years  more  they  had 
gleaned  enough  to  set  up  their  fourth  son  as  a  master 
tailor,  and  their  eldest  daughter  as  a  robe-maker,  in 


8  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

Tergou.  Here  were  two  more  provided  for :  their  own 
trade  would  enable  them  to  throw  work  into  the  hands 
of  this  pair.  But  the  coffer  was  drained  to  the  dregs, 
and  this  tune  the  shop  too  bled  a  little  in  goods  if  not  in 
com. 

Alas!  there  remained  on  hand  two  that  were  unable 
to  get  their  bread,  and  two  that  were  unwilling.  The 
unable  ones  were,  1,  Giles,  a  dwarf,  of  the  wrong  sort, 
half  stupidity  half  malice,  all  head  and  claws  and  voice, 
run  from  by  dogs  and  unprejudiced  females,  and  sided 
with  through  thick  and  thin  by  his  mother;  2,  Little 
Catherine,  a  poor  girl  that  could  only  move  on  crutches. 
She  lived  hi  pain,  but  smiled  through  it,  with  her  marble 
face  and  violet  eyes  and  long  silky  lashes :  and  fretful  or 
repining  word  never  came  from  her  lips.  The  unwilling 
ones  were  Sybrandt,  the  youngest,  a  ne'er-do-weel,  too 
much  in  love  with  play  to  work,  and  Cornells,  the  eldest, 
who  had  made  calculations  of  his  own,  and  stuck  to  the 
hearth,  waiting  for  dead  men's  shoes.  Almost  worn  out 
by  their  repeated  efforts,  and  above  all  dispirited  by  the 
moral  and  physical  infirmities  of  those  that  now  remain- 
ed on  hand,  the  anxious  couple  would  often  say,  "  What 
will  become  of  all  these  when  we  shall  be  no  longer  here 
to  take  care  of  them  ?"  But  when  they  had  said  this  a 
good  many  times,  suddenly  the  domestic  horizon  cleared, 
and  then  they  used  still  to  say  it,  because  a  habit  is  a 
habit,  but  they  uttered  it  hah0  mechanically  now  instead 
of  despondently,  and  added  brightly  and  cheerfully, 
"but  thanks  to  St.  Bavon  and  all  the  saints,  there's 
Gerard!!" 


CHAPTER  n. 

YOUNG  Gerard  was  for  many  years  of  his  life  a  son 
apart  and  distinct ;  object  of  no  fears  and  no  great  hopes. 
No  fears ;  for  he  was  going  into  the  Church ;  and  the 


A2 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  11 

Church  could  always  maintain  her  children  by  hook  or 
by  crook  in  those  days :  no  great  hopes,  because  his  fam- 
ily had  no  interest  with  the  great  to  get  him  a  benefice, 
and  the  young  man's  own  habits  were  frivolous,  and,  in- 
deed, such  as  our  cloth  merchant  would  not  have  put  up 
with  in  any  one  but  a  clerk  that  was  to  be.  His  two  main 
trivialities  were  reading  and  penmanship,  and  he  was  so 
wrapped  up  in  them  that  often  he  could  hardly  be  got 
away  to  his  meals.  The  day  was  never  long  enough  for 
him:  and  he  carried  ever  a  tinder-box  and  brimstone 
matches,  and  begged  ends  of  candles  of  the  neighbors, 
which  he  lighted  at  unreasonable  hours  —  ay,  even  at 
eight  of  the  clock  at  night  in  winter,  when  the  very  Burg- 
omaster was  abed.  Endured  at  home,  his  practices 
were  encouraged  by  the  monks  of  a  neighboring  convent. 
They  had  taught  him  penmanship,  and  continued  to  teach 
him,  until  one  day  they  discovered,  in  the  middle  of  a 
lesson,  that  he  was  teaching  them.  They  pointed  this 
out  to  him  in  a  merry  way :  he  hung  his  head  and  blush- 
ed :  he  had  suspected  as  much  himself,  but  mistrusted 
his  judgment  in  that  matter.  "  But,  my  son,"  said  an 
elderly  monk,  "  how  is  it  that  you,  to  whom  God  has 
given  an  eye  so  true,  a  hand  so  supple  yet  firm,  and  a 
love  of  these  beautiful  crafts,  how  is  it  you  do  not  color 
as  well  as  write  ?  a  scroll  looks  but  barren  unless  a  bor- 
der of  fruit,  and  leaves,  and  rich  arabesques  surround  the 
good  words,  and  charm  the  sense  as  those  do  the  soul 
and  understanding ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  pictures  of  holy 
men  and  women  departed,  with  which  the  several  chap- 
ters should  be  adorned,  and  not  alone  the  eye  soothed 
with  the  brave  and  sweetly  blended  colors,  but  the  heart 
lifted  by  effigies  of  the  Saints  in  glory.  Answer  me,  my 
son." 

At  this  Gerard  was  confused,  and  muttered  that  he  had 
made  several  trials  at  illuminating,  but  had  not  succeeded 
well ;  and  thus  the  matter  rested. 

Soon  after  this  a  fellow-enthusiast  came  on  the  scene 


12  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

in  the  unwonted  form  of  an  old  lady.  Margaret,  sister 
and  survivor  of  the  brothers  Van  Eyck,  left  Flanders, 
and  came  to  end  her  days  in  her  native  country.  She 
bought  a  small  house  near  Tergou.  In  course  of  time 
she  heard  of  Gerard,  and  saw  some  of  his  handiwork ; 
it  pleased  her  so  well  that  she  sent  her  female  servant, 
Richt  Heynes,  to  ask  him  to  come  to  her.  This  led  to 
an  acquaintance :  it  could  hardly  be  otherwise,  for  little 
Tergou  had  never  held  so  many  as  two  zealots  of  this 
sort  before.  At  first  the  old  lady  damped  Gerard's  cour- 
age terribly.  At  each  visit  she  pulled  out  of  holes  and 
corners  drawings  and  paintings,  some  of  them  by  her 
own  hand,  that  seemed  to  him  unapproachable ;  but  if 
the  artist  overpowered  him,  the  woman  kept  his  heart  up. 
She  and  Richt  soon  turned  him  inside  out  like  a  glove. 
Among  other  things,  they  drew  from  him  what  the  good 
monks  had  failed  to  hit  upon,  the  reason  why  he  did  not 
illuminate,  viz.,  that  he  could  not  afford  the  gold,  the  blue, 
and  the  red,  but  only  the  cheap  earths ;  and  that  he  was 
afraid  to  ask  his  mother  to  buy  the  choice  colors,  and  was 
sure  he  should  ask  her  in  vain.  Then  Margaret  Van  Eyck 
gave  him  a  little  brush-gold,  and  some  vermilion,  and  ul- 
tramarine, and  a  piece  of  good  vellum  to  lay  them  on. 
He  almost  adored  her.  As  he  left  the  house  Richt  ran 
after  him  with  a  candle  and  two  quarters :  he  quite  kiss- 
ed her.  But  better  even  than  the  gold  and  lapis  lazuli 
to  the  illuminator  was  the  sympathy  to  the  isolated  en- 
thusiast. That  sympathy  was  always  ready,  and,  as  he 
returned  it,  an  affection  sprung  up  between  the  old  paint- 
er and  the  young  caligrapher  that  was  doubly  character- 
istic of  the  time.  For  this  was  a  century  in  which  the 
fine  arts  and  the  higher  mechanical  arts  were  not  sepa- 
rated by  any  distinct  boundary,  nor  were  those  who  prac- 
ticed them :  and  it  was  an  age  in  which  artists  sought 
out  and  loved  one  another.  Should  this  last  statement 
stagger  a  painter  or  writer  of  our  day,  let  me  remind  him 
that  Christians  loved  one  another  at  first  starting. 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  13 

Backed  by  an  acquaintance  so  venerable,  and  strength- 
ened by  female  sympathy,  Gerard  advanced  in  learning 
and  skill.  His  spirits,  too,  rose  visibly :  he  still  looked 
behind  him  when  dragged  to  dinner  in  the  middle  of  an 
initial  G ;  but  once  seated  showed  great  social  qualities : 
likewise  a  gay  humor,  that  had  hitherto  but  peeped  in 
him,  shone  out,  and  often  he  set  the  table  in  a  roar,  and 
kept  it  there,  sometimes  with  his  own  wit,  sometimes  with 
jests  which  were  glossy  new  to  his  family,  being  drawn 
from  antiquity. 

As  a  return  for  all  he  owed  his  friends  the  monks,  he 
made  them  exquisite  copies  from  two  of  their  choicest 
MSS.,  viz.,  the  life  of  their  founder,  and  their  Comedies 
of  Terence,  the  monastery  finding  the  velluni. 

The  high  and  puissant  Prince,  Philip  "  the  Good,"  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  Luxemburg,  and  Brabant,  Earl  of  Holland 
and  Zealand,  Lord  of  Friesland,  Count  of  Flanders,  Ar- 
tois,  and  Hainault,  Lord  of  Salins  and  Macklyn — was 
versatile. 

He  could  fight  as  well  as  any  king  going ;  and  he  could 
lie  as  well  as  any  except  the  King  of  France.  He  was  a 
mighty  hunter,  and  could  read  and  write.  His  tastes 
were  wide  and  ardent.  He  loved  jewels  like  a  woman, 
and  gorgeous  apparel.  He  dearly  loved  maids  of  honor, 
and  paintings  generally ;  in  proof  of  which  he  ennobled 
Jan  Van  Eyck.  He  had  also  a  particular  fancy  for  giants, 
dwarfs,  and  Turks ;  these  last  he  had  ever  about  him, 
turbaned,  and  blazing  with  jewels.  His  agents  inveigled 
them  from  Istamboul  with  fair  promises :  but  the  moment 
he  had  got  them  he  baptized  them  by  brute  force  in  a 
large  tub ;  and,  this  done,  let  them  squat  with  their  faces 
toward  Mecca,  and  invoke  Mahound  as  much  as  they 
pleased,  laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  their  simplicity  in  fan- 
cying they  were  still  infidels.  He  had  lions  hi  cages,  and 
fleet  leopards  trained  by  orientals  to  run  down  hares  and 
deer.  In  short,  he  relished  all  rarities,  except  humdrum 


14  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

virtues.  For  any  thing  singularly  pretty,  or  diabolically 
ugly,  this  was  your  customer.  The  best  of  him  was,  he 
was  open-handed  to  the  poor ;  and  the  next  best  was,  he 
fostered  the  arts  in  earnest :  whereof  he  now  gave  a  sig- 
nal proof.  He  offered  prizes  for  the  best  specimens  of 
"  orfevrerie"  in  two  kinds,  religious  and  secular ;  item  for 
the  best  paintings  in  white  of  egg,  oils,  and  tempera; 
these  to  be  on  panel,  silk,  or  metal  as  the  artists  chose : 
item  for  the  best  transparent  painting  on  glass :  item  for 
the  best  illuminating  and  border-painting  on  vellum :  item 
for  the  fairest  writing  on  vellum.  The  Burgomasters  of 
the  several  towns  were  commanded  to  aid  all  the  poorer 
competitors  by  receiving  their  specimens  and  sending 
them  with  due  care  to  Rotterdam  at  the  expense  of  their 
several  burghs.  When  this  was  cried  by  the  bellman 
through  the  streets  of  Tergou,  a  thousand  mouths  opened, 
and  one  heart  beat — Gerard's.  He  told  his  family  he 
should  try  for  two  of  those  prizes.  They  stared  in  silence, 
for  their  breath  was  gone  at  his  conceit  and  audacity : 
but  one  horrid  laugh  exploded  on  the  floor  like  a  petard. 
Gerard  looked  down,  and  there  was  the  dwarf,  whose  very 
whisper  was  a  bassoon,  slit  and  fanged  from  ear  to  ear  at 
his  expense,  and  laughing  like  a  lion.  Nature  relenting 
at  having  made  Giles  so  small,  had  given  him  as  a  set-off 
the  biggest  voice  on  record.  He  was  like  those  stunted 
wide-mouthed  pieces  of  ordnance  we  see  on  fortifications ; 
they  are  more  like  a  flower-pot  than  a  cannon ;  but  ods 
tympana  how  they  bellow ! 

Gerard  turned  red  with  anger,  the  more  so  as  the  oth- 
ers began  to  titter.  White  Catherine  saw,  and  a  pink 
tinge  just  perceptible  came  to  her  cheek.  She  said  softly, 
"  Why  do  you  laugh  ?  Is  it  because  he  is  our  brother 
you  think  he  can  not  be  capable.  Yes,  Gerard,  try  with 
the  rest.  Many  say  you  are  skillful ;  and  mother  and  I 
will  pray  the  Virgin  to  guide  your  hand." 

"  Thank  you,  little  Kate.  You  shall  pray  to  our  Lady, 
and  our  mother  shall  buy  vellum  and  the  colors  to  illu- 
minate with." 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  15 

"  What  will  they  cost  ?" 

"Two  gold  crowns"  (about  three  shillings  and  four- 
pence  English  money). 

"  What  ?"  screamed  the  housewife ;  "  when  the  bushel 
of  rye  costs  but  a  groat !  What !  me  spend  a  month's 
meal  and  meat  and  fire  "on  such  vanity  as  that :  the  light- 
ning from  Heaven  would  fall  on  me,  and  my  children 
would  all  be  beggars." 

"  Mother !"  sighed  little  Catherine,  imploringly. 

"  Oh !  it  is  in  vain,  Kate,"  said  Gerard,  with  a  sigh. 
"  I  shall  have  to  give  it  up,  or  ask  the  dame  Van  Eyck. 
She  would  give  it  me,  but  I  think  shame  to  be  forever 
taking  from  her." 

"  It  is  not  her  affair,"  said  Catherine,  very  sharply ; 
"  what  has  she  to  do  coming  between  me  and  my  son  ?" 
And  she  left  the  room  with  a  red  face.  Little  Catherine 
smiled.  Presently  the  housewife  returned  with  a  gra- 
cious, affectionate  air,  and  the  two  little  gold  pieces  in 
her  hand. 

"  There,  sweetheart,"  said  she,  "  you  won't  have  to 
trouble  dame  or  demoiselle  for  two  paltry  crowns." 

But  on  this  Gerard  fell  a  thinking  how  he  could  spare 
her  purse. 

"  One  will  do,  mother.  I  will  ask  the  good  monks  to 
let  me  send  my  copy  of  their  '  Terence :'  it  is  on  snowy 
vellum,  and  I  can  write  no  better:  so  then  I  shall  only 
need  six  sheets  of  vellum  for  my  borders  and  miniatures, 
and  gold  for  my  ground,  and  prime  colors — one  crown 
will  do." 

"  Never  spoil  the  ship  for  want  of  a  bit  of  tar,  Gerard," 
said  this  changeable  mother.  But  she  added,  "Well, 
there,  I  will  put  the  crown  in  my  pocket.  That  won't 
be  like  putting  it  back  in  the  box.  Going  to  the  box  to 
take  out  instead  of  putting  in — it  is  like  going  to  my 
heart  with  a  knife  for  so  many  drops  of  blood.  You  will 
be  sure  to  want  it,  Gerard.  The  house  is  never  built  for 
less  than  the  builder  counted  on." 


16  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

Sure  enough,  when  the  time  came,  Gerard  longed  to 
go  to  Rotterdam  and  see  the  Duke,  and  above  all  to  see 
the  work  of  his  competitors,  and  so  get  a  lesson  from  de- 
feat. And  the  crown  came  out  of  the  housewife's  pocket 
with  a  very  good  grace.  Gerard  would  soon  be  a  priest. 
It  seemed  hard  if  he  might  not  enjoy  the  world  a  little 
before  separating  himself  from  it  for  life. 

The  day  before  he  went,  Margaret  Van  Eyck  asked 
him  to  take  a  letter  for  her,  and  when  he  came  to  look 
at  it,  somewhat  to  his  surprise  he  found  it  was  addressed 
to  the  Princess  Marie,  at  the  Stadthouse,  in  Rotterdam. 

The  day  before  the  prizes  were  to  be  distributed,  Ge- 
rard started  for  Rotterdam  thus  equipped ;  he  had  a  doub- 
let of  silver-gray  cloth  with  sleeves,  and  a  jerkin  of  the 
same  over  it,  but  without  sleeves.  From  his  waist  to  his 
heels  he  was  clad  in  a  pair  of  tight-fitting  buckskin  hose 
fastened  by  laces  (called  points)  to  his  doublet.  His 
shoes  were  pointed,  in  moderation,  and  secured  by  a  strap 
that  passed  under  the  hollow  of  the  foot.  On  his  head 
and  the  back  of  his  neck  he  wore  his  flowing  hair,  and 
pinned  to  his  back  between  his  shoulders  was  his  hat :  it 
was  farther  secured  by  a  purple  silk  ribbon  little  Kate 
had  passed  round  him  from  the  sides  of  the  hat,  and  knot- 
ted neatly  on  his  breast ;  below  his  hat,  attached  to  the 
upper  rim  of  his  broad  waist  belt,  was  his  leathern  wal- 
let. When  he  got  within  a  league  of  Rotterdam  he  was 
pretty  tired,  but  he  soon  fell  in  with  a  pair  that  were 
more  so.  He  found  an  old  man  sitting  by  the  road-side 
quite  worn  out,  and  a  comely  young  woman  holding  his 
hand,  with  a  face  full  of  concern.  The  country  people 
trudged  by  and  noticed  nothing  amiss :  but  Gerard,  as 
he  passed,  drew  conclusions.  Even  dress  tells  a  tale  to 
those  who  study  it  so  closely  as  our  illuminator  was  wont 
to.  The  old  man  wore  a  gown,  and  a  fur  tippet,  and  a 
velvet  cap,  sure  signs  of  dignity :  but  the  triangular  purse 
at  his  girdle  was  lean,  the  gown  rusty,  the  fur  worn,  sure 
signs  of  poverty.  The  young  woman  was  dressed  in  plain 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  17 

russet  cloth :  yet  snow- white  lawn  covered  that  part  of 
her  neck  the  gown  left  visible,  and  ended  half  way  up  her 
white  throat  in  a  little  band  of  gold  embroidery :  and 
her  headdress  was  new  to  Gerard ;  instead  of  hiding  her 
hair  in  a  pile  of  linen  or  lawn,  she  wore  an  open  net- work 
of  silver  cord  with  silver  spangles  at  the  interstices :  in 
this  her  glossy  auburn  hair  was  rolled  hi  front  into  a  solid 
wave,  and  supported  behind  in  a  luxurious  and  shapely 
mass.  His  quick  eye  took  in  all  this,  and  the  old  man's 
deadly  pallor,  and  the  tears  in  the  young  woman's  eyes. 
So  when  he  had  passed  them  a  few  yards,  he  reflected, 
and  turned  back,  and  came  toward  them  bashfully. 

"  Father,  I  fear  you  are  tired." 

"  Indeed,  my  son,  I  am,"  replied  the  old  man ;  "  and 
faint  for  lack  of  food." 

Gerard's  address  did  not  appear  so  agreeable  to  the 
girl  as  to  the  old  man.  She  seemed  ashamed,  and  with 
much  reserve  in  her  manner  said,  that  it  was  her  fault ; 
she  had  underrated  the  distance,  and  imprudently  allowed 
her  father  to  start  too  late  in  the  day. 

"  No !  no !"  said  the  old  man ;  "  it  is  not  the  distance, 
it  is  the  want  of  nourishment." 

The  girl  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  with  tender 
concern,  but  took  that  opportunity  of  whispering,  "  Fa- 
ther, a  stranger — a  young  man  !" 

But  it  was  too  late.  Gerard,  with  great  simplicity, 
and  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  fell  to  gathering  sticks 
with  great  expedition.  This  done,  he  took  down  his 
wallet,  out  with  the  manchet  of  bread  and  the  iron  flask 
his  careful  mother  had  put  up,  and  his  everlasting  tinder- 
box  ;  lighted  a  match,  then  a  candle-end,  then  the  sticks ; 
and  put  his  iron  flask  on  it.  Then  down  he  went  on  his 
stomach  and  took  a  good  blow :  then  looking  up,  he  saw 
the  girl's  face  had  thawed,  and  she  was  looking  down  at 
him  and  his  energy  with  a  demure  smile.  He  laughed 
back  to  her :  "  Mind  the  pot,"  said  he,  "  and  don't  let  it 
spill,  for  Heaven's  sake:  there's  a  cleft  stick  to  hold  it 


18  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

safe  with ;"  and  with  this  he  set  off  running  toward  a 
corn-field  at  some  distance.  While  he  was  gone,  there 
came  by,  on  a  mule  with  rich  purple  housings,  an  old 
man  redolent  with  wealth.  The  purse  at  his  girdle  was 
plethoric,  the  fur  on  his  tippet  was  ermine,  broad  and 
new. 

It  was  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten,  the  Burgomaster  of 
Tergou.  He  was  old,  and  his  face  furrowed.  He  was  a 
notorious  miser,  and  looked  one  generally.  But  the  idea 
of  supping  with  the  Duke  raised  him  just  now  into  man- 
ifest complacency.  Yet  at  the  sight  of  the  faded  old 
man  and  his  bright  daughter  sitting  by  a  fire  of  sticks, 
the  smile  died  out  of  his  face,  and  he  wore  a  strange 
look  of  anguish  and  wrath.  He  reined  in  his  mule. 
"  Why,  Peter — Margaret — "  said  he  almost  fiercely, 
"  what  mummery  is  this !"  Peter  was  going  to  answer, 
but  Margaret  interposed  hastily,  and  said :  "  My  father 
was  exhausted,  so  I  am  warming  something  to  give  him 
strength  before  we  go  on."  "  What,  reduced  to  feed  by 
the  road-side  like  the  Bohemians,"  said  Ghysbrecht,  and 
his  hand  went  into  his  purse :  but  it  did  not  seem  at 
home  there,  it  fumbled  uncertainly,  afraid  too  large  a 
coin  might  stick  to  a  finger  and  come  out. 

At  this  moment,  who  should  come  bounding  up  but 
Gerard.  He  had  two  straws  in  his  hand,  and  he  threw 
himself  down  by  the  fire,  and  relieved  Margaret  of  the 
cooking  part :  then  suddenly  recognizing  the  Burgomas- 
ter, he  colored  all  over.  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  started 
and  glared  at  him,  and  took  his  hand  out  of  his  purse. 
"  Oh,"  said  he  bitterly,  "  I  am  not  wanted :"  and  went 
slowly  on,  casting  a  long  look  of  suspicion  on  Margaret, 
and  hostility  on  Gerard,  that  was  not  very  intelligible. 
However,  there  was  something  about  it  that  Margaret 
could  read  enough  to  blush  at,  and  almost  toss  her  head. 
Gerard  only  stared  with  surprise.  "  By  St.  Bavon,  I  think 
the  old  miser  grudges  us  three  our  quart  of  soup,"  said 
he.  When  the  young  man  put  that  interpretation  on 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  19 

Ghysbrecht's  strange  and  meaning  look,  Margaret  was 
greatly  relieved,  and  smiled  gayly  on  the  speaker. 

Meantime  Ghysbrecht  plodded  on  more  wretched  hi 
his  wealth  than  these  in  their  poverty.  And  the  curious 
thing  is  that  the  mule,  the  purple  housings,  and  one  half 
the  coin  in  that  plethoric  purse,  belonged  not  to  Ghys- 
brecht Van  Swieten,  but  to  that  faded  old  man  and  that 
comely  girl,  who  sat  by  a  road-side  fire  to  be  fed  by  a 
stranger."  They  did  not  know  this,  but  Ghysbrecht  knew 
it,  and  carried  in  his  heart  a  scorpion  of  his  own  beget- 
ting. That  scorpion  is  remorse ;  the  remorse,  that,  not 
being  penitence,  is  incurable,  and  ready  for  fresh  mis- 
deeds upon  a  fresh  temptation. 

Twenty  years  ago,  when  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  was 
a  hard  but  honest  man,  the  touch-stone  opportunity  came 
to  him,  and  he  did  an  act  of  heartless  roguery.  It  seemed 
a  safe  one.  It  had  hitherto  proved  a  safe  one,  though  he 
had  never  felt  safe.  To-day  he  has  seen  youth,  enter- 
prise, and,  above  all,  knowledge,  seated  by  fair  Margaret 
and  her  father  on  terms  that  look  familiar  and  loving. 

And  the  fiends  are  at  his  ear  again. 


CHAPTER  IE. 

"  THE  soup  is  hot,"  said  Gerard. 

"  But  how  are  we  to  swallow  it  ?"  inquired  the  senior, 
despondingly. 

"  Father,  the  young  man  has  brought  us  straws."  And 
Margaret  smiled  slily. 

"  Ay,  ay !"  said  the  old  man :  "  but  my  poor  bones  are 
stiff,  and  indeed  the  fire  is  too  hot  for  a  body  to  kneel 
over  with  these  short  straws.  St.  John  the  Baptist !  but 
the  young  man  is  adroit." 

For,  while  he  stated  his  difficulty,  Gerard  removed  it. 
He  untied  in  a  moment  the  knot  on  his  breast,  took  his 
hat  off  his  back,  put  three  stones  into  the  corner,  then, 


20  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

wrapping  his  hand  in  the  tail  of  his  jerkin,  whipped  the 
flask  off  the  fire,  wedged  it  in  between  the  stones,  and 
put  the  hat  under  the  old  man's  nose  with  a  merry  smile. 
The  other  tremulously  inserted  the  pipe  of  rye-straw  and 
sucked.  Lo  and  behold  his  wan,  drawn  face  was  seen  to 
light  up  more  and  more,  till  it  quite  glowed ;  and,  as  soon 
as  he  had  drawn  a  long  breath : 

"  Hippocrates  and  Galen !"  he  cried,  "  'tis  a  '  soupe  au 
vin' — the  restorative  of  restoratives.  Blessed  be  the  na- 
tion that  invented  it,  and  the  woman  that  made  it,  and 
the  young  man  who  brings  it  to  fainting  folk.  Have  a 
suck,  my  girl,  while  I  relate  to  our  host  the  history  and 
virtues  of  this  his  sovereign  compound.  This  corrobo- 
rative, young  sir,  was  not  known  to  the  ancients :  we  find 
it  neither  in  their  treatises  of  medicine,  nor  in  those  pop- 
ular narratives,  which  reveal  many  of  their  remedies, 
both  in  chirurgery  and  medicine  proper.  Hector,  in  the 
Hias,  if  my  memory  does  not  play  me  false — " 

Margaret.  "  Alas !  he's  off." 

"  — was  invited  by  one  of  the  ladies  in  the  poem  to 
drink  a  draught  of  wine ;  but  he  declined,  on  the  plea 
that  he  was  just  going  into  battle,  and  must  not  take 
aught  to  weaken  his  powers.  Now,  if  the  '  soupe  au  vin' 
had  been  known  in  Troy,  it  is  clear  that  in  declining  '  vi- 
num  merum'  on  that  score,  he  would  have  added  in  the 
next  hexameter,  '  But  a  "  soupe  au  vin,"  madam,  I  will 
degust,  and  gratefully.'  Not  only  would  this  have  been 
but  common  civility — a  virtue  no  perfect  commander  is 
wanting  in — but  not  to  have  done  it  would  have  proved 
him  a  shallow  and  improvident  person,  quite  unfit  to  be 
trusted  with  the  conduct  of  a  war ;  for  men  going  into 
battle  need  sustenance  and  ah1  possible  support,  as  is 
proved  by  this — that  foolish  generals,  bringing  hungry 
soldiers  to  battle  with  full  ones,  have  been  defeated,  in 
all  ages,  by  inferior  numbers.  The  Romans  lost  a  great 
battle  in  the  north  of  Italy  to  Hannibal  the  Carthaginian, 
by  this  neglect  alone.  Now,  this  divine  elixir  gives  in 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  21 

one  moment  force  to  the  limbs  and  ardor  to  the  spirits ; 
and  taken  into  Hector's  body  at  the  nick  of  time,  would, 
by  the  aid  of  Phoebus,  Venus,  and  the  blessed  saints,  have 
most  likely  procured  the  Greeks  a  defeat.  For,  note 
how  faint  and  weary  and  heart-sick  I  was  a  minute  ago ; 
well,  I  suck  this  celestial  cordial,  and  now  behold  me 
brave  as  Achilles  and  strong  as  an  eagle." 

"  Oh  father !  now,  an  eagle !" 

"  Girl,  I  defy  thee  and  all  the  world.  Ready,  I  say, 
like  a  foaming  charger,  to  devour  the  space  between  this 
and  Rotterdam,  and  strong  to  combat  the  ills  of  life, 
even  poverty  and  old  age,  which  last  philosophers  have 
called  the  'summum  malum.'  Negatur;  unless  the 
man's  life  has  been  ill-spent — which,  by-the-by,  it  gen- 
erally has.  Now  for  the  moderns." 

"Father!  dear  father!" 

"  Fear  me  not,  girl,  I  will  be  brief,  beyond  measure 
brief.  The '  soupe  au  vin'  occurs  not  in  modern  science ; 
but  this  is  only  one  proof  more,  if  proof  were  needed, 
that  for  the  last  few  hundred  years  physicians  have  all 
been  idiots,  with  their  chicken  broth  and  their  dococ- 
tion  of  gold,  whereby  they  attribute  the  highest  qualities 
to  that  meat  which  has  the  least  juice  of  any  meat,  and 
to  that  metal  which  has  less  chemical  qualities  than  all 
the  metals.  Mountebanks !  dunces !  homicides !  Since, 
then,  from  these  no  light  is  to  be  gathered,  we  must  go 
to  the  chroniclers ;  and  first  we  find  that  Duguesclin,  a 
French  knight,  being  about  to  join  battle  with  the  En- 
glish— masters,  at  that  time,  of  half  France,  and  sturdy 
strikers  by  sea  and  land — drank,  not  one,  but  three 
'  soupes  au  vin,'  in  honor  of  the  Blessed  Trinity.  This 
done,  he  charged  the  islanders ;  and  as  might  have  been 
expected,  killed  a  multitude  of  them,  and  drove  the  rest 
into  the  sea.  But  he  was  only  the  first  of  a  long  list  of 
holy  and  hard-hitting  ones  who  have,  by  this  divine  re- 
storative, been  sustentated,  fortified,  corroborated,  and 
consoled." 


22  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Dear  father,  prithee  add  thyself  to  that  list  before 
the  soup  cools."  And  Margaret  held  the  hat  imploring- 
ly in  both  hands  till  he  inserted  the  straw  once  more. 

This  spared  them  the  "modern  instances,"  and  gave 
Gerard  an  opportunity  of  telling  Margaret  how  proud 
his  mother  would  be  her  soup  had  profited  a  man  of 
learning. 

"  Ay !  but,"  said  Margaret, "  it  would  like  her  ill  to  see 
her  son  give  all  and  take  none  himself.  Why  brought 
you  but  two  straws  ?" 

"  Fair  mistress,  I  hoped  you  would  let  me  put  my  lips 
to  your  straw,  there  being  but  two." 

Margaret  smiled,  and  blushed.  "  Never  beg  that  you 
may  command,"  said  she.  "  The  straw  is  not  mine — 'tis 
yours  :  you  cut  it  in  yonder  field." 

"  I  cut  it,  and  that  made  it  mine ;  but,  after  that,  your 
lip  touched  it,  and  that  made  it  yours." 

"  Did  it  ?  Then  I  will  lend  it  to  you.  There— now  it 
is  yours  again :  your  lip  has  touched  it." 

"  No,  it  belongs  to  us  both  now.     Let  us  divide  it." 

"  By  all  means  ;  you  have  a  knife." 

"  No,  I  will  not  cut  it — that  would  be  unlucky.  I'll 
bite  it.  There.  I  shall  keep  my  half:  you  will  burn 
yours  the  moment  you  get  home,  I  doubt." 

"You  know  me  not.  I  waste  nothing.  It  is  odds 
but  I  make  a  hair-pin  of  it,  or  something." 

This  answer  dashed  the  novice  Gerard  instead  of  pro- 
voking him  to  fresh  efforts,  and  he  was  silent.  And  now, 
the  bread  and  soup  being  disposed  of,  the  old  scholar 
prepared  to  continue  his  journey.  Then  came  a  little 
difficulty:  Gerard  the  adroit  could  not  tie  his  ribbon 
again  as  Catherine  had  tied  it.  Margaret,  after  slily  ey- 
ing his  efforts  for  some  time,  offered  to  help  him ;  for  at 
her  age  girls  love  to  be  coy  and  tender,  saucy  and  gen- 
tle, by  turns,  and  she  saw  she  had  put  him  out  of  coun- 
tenance but  now.  Then  a  fair  head,  with  its  stately 
crown  of  auburn  hair,  glossy  and  glowing  through  sil- 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  23 

ver,  bowed  sweetly  toward  him ;  and,  while  it  ravished 
his  eye,  two  white  supple  hands  played  delicately  upon 
the  stubborn  ribbon,  and  moulded  it  with  soft  and  airy 
touches.  Then  a  heavenly  thrill  ran  through  the  inno- 
cent young  man,  and  vague  glimpses  of  a  new  world  of 
feeling  and  sentiment  opened  on  him.  And  these  new 
and  exquisite  sensations  Margaret  unwittingly  prolonged : 
it  is  not  natural  to  her  sex  to  hurry  aught  that  pertains 
to  the  sacred  toilet.  Nay,  when  the  taper  fingers  had  at 
last  subjugated  the  ends  of  the  knot,  her  mind  was  not 
quite  easy  till,  by  a  manoeuvre  peculiar  to  the  female 
hand,  she  had  made  her  palm  convex,  and  so  applied  it 
with  a  gentle  pressure  to  the  centre  of  the  knot — a  sweet 
little  coaxing  hand-kiss,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Now  be  a 
good  knot,  and  stay  as  you  are."  The  palm-kiss  was  be- 
stowed on  the  ribbon,  but  the  wearer's  heart  leaped  to 
meet  it. 

"  There,  that  is  how  it  was,"  said  Margaret,  and  drew 
back  to  take  one  last  keen  survey  of  her  work ;  then, 
looking  up  for  simple  approval  of  her  skill,  received  full 
in  her  eyes  a  longing  gaze  of  such  ardent  adoration,  as 
made  her  lower  them  quickly  and  color  all  over.  An 
indescribable  tremor  seized  her,  and  she  retreated  with 
downcast  lashes  and  tell-tale  cheeks,  and  took  her  fa- 
ther's arm  on  the  opposite  side.  Gerard,  blushing  at 
having  scared  her  with  his  eyes,  took  the  other  arm ; 
and  so  the  two  young  things  went  downcast  and  "con- 
scious, and  propped  the  eagle  along  in  silence. 

They  entered  Rotterdam  by  the  Schiedamze  Poort ; 
and,  as  Gerard  was  unacquainted  with  the  town,  Peter 
directed  him  the  way  to  the  Hooch  Straet,  in  which  the 
Stadthouse  was.  He  himself  was  going  with  Margaret 
to  his  cousin,  in  the  Ooster  "Waagen  Straet ;  so  almost 
on  entering  the  gate,  their  roads  lay  apart.  They  bade 
each  other  a  friendly  adieu,  and  Gerard  dived  into  the 
great  town.  A  profound,  an  aching  sense  of  solitude, 
fell  upon  him,  yet  the  streets  were  crowded.  Then  he 


24  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

lamented  too  late  that,  out  of  delicacy,  he  had  not  asked 
his  late  companions  who  they  were  and  where  they 
lived. 

"  Beshrew  my  shamefacedness !"  said  he.  "  But  their 
words  and  their  breeding  were  above  their  means,  and 
something  whispered  me  they  would  not  be  known.  I 
shall  never  see  her  more.  Oh !  weary  world,  I  hate  you 
and  your  ways.  To  think  I  must  meet  beauty  and  good- 
ness and  learning — three  pearls  of  price — and  never  see 
them  more !" 

Falling  into  this  sad  reverie,  and  letting  his  body  go 
where  it  would,  he  lost  his  way ;  but  presently  meeting 
a  crowd  of  persons  ah1  moving  in  one  direction,  he  min- 
gled with  them,  for  he  argued  they  must  be  making  for 
the  Stadthouse.  Soon  the  noisy  troop  that  contained 
the  moody  Gerard  emerged,  not  upon  the  Stadthouse, 
but  upon  a  large  meadow  by  the  side  of  the  Maas ;  and 
then  the  attraction  was  at  once  revealed.  Games  of  all 
sorts  were  going  on :  wrestling,  the  game  of  palm,  the 
quintain,  legerdemain,  archery,  tumbling,  in  which  art, 
I  blush  to  say,  women  as  well  as  men  performed,  to  the 
great  delectation  of  the  company.  There  was  also  a 
trained  bear,  which  stood  on  his  head,  and  stood  upright 
and  bowed  with  prodigious  gravity  to  his  master ;  and  a 
hare  that  beat  a  drum,  and  a  cock  that  strutted  on  little 
stilts  disdainfully.  These  things  made  Gerard  laugh  now 
and  then ;  but  the  gay  scene  could  not  really  enliven  it, 
for  his  heart  was  not  in  tune  with  it.  So,  hearing  a 
young  man  say  to  his  fellow  that  the  Duke  had  been  in 
the  meadow,  but  was  gone  to  the  Stadthouse  to  enter- 
tain the  burgomasters  and  aldermen  and  the  competitors 
for  the  prizes,  and  their  friends,  he  suddenly  remembered 
he  was  hungry,  and  should  like  to  sup  with  a  prince. 
He  left  the  river-side,  and  this  time  he  found  the  Hooch 
Straet,  and  it  speedily  led  him  to  the  Stadthouse.  But 
when  he  got  there  he  was  refused,  first  at  one  door,  then 
at  another,  till  he  came  to  the  great  gate  of  the  court- 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  25 

yard.  It  was  kept  by  soldiers,  and  superintended  by  a 
pompous  major-domo,  glittering  in  an  embroidered  collar 
and  a  gold  chain  of  office,  and  holding  a  white  staff  with 
a  gold  knob.  There  was  a  crowd  of  persons  at  the  gate 
endeavoring  to  soften  this  official  rock.  They  came  up 
in  turn  like  ripples,  and  retired  to  make  way  for  others 
equally  unsuccessful.  It  cost  Gerard  a  struggle  to  get 
near  him,  and  when  he  got  within  four  heads  of  the  gate, 
he  saw  something  that  made  his  heart  beat :  there  was 
Peter,  with  Margaret  on  his  arm,  soliciting  humbly  for 
entrance. 

"  My  cousin  the  alderman  is  not  at  home.  They  say 
he  is  here." 

"  What  is  that  to  me,  old  man  ?" 

"If  you  will  not  let  us  pass  in  to  him,  at  least  take 
this  leaf  from  my  tablet  to  my  cousin.  See,  I  have  writ- 
ten his  name  :  he  will  come  out  to  us." 

"  For  what  do  you  take  me  ?  I  carry  no  messages.  I 
keep  the  gate." 

He  then  bawled,  in  a  stentorian  voice,  inexorably : 

"No  strangers  enter  here  but  the  competitors  and 
their  companies." 

"  Come,  old  man,"  cried  a  voice  in  the  crowd,  "  you 
have  gotten  your  answer ;  make  way." 

Margaret  turned  half  round  imploringly  : 

"  Good  people !  we  are  come  from  far,  and  my  father 
is  old ;  and  my  cousin  has  a  new  servant  that  knows  us 
not,  and  would  not  let  us  sit  in  our  cousin's  house." 

At  this  the  crowd  laughed  hoarsely.  Margaret  shrank 
as  if  they  had  struck  her.  At  that  moment  a  hand 
grasped  hers — such  a  grasp:  it  felt  like  heart  meeting 
heart,  or  magnet  steel.  She  turned  quickly  round  at  it, 
and  it  was  Gerard.  Such  a  little  cry  of  joy  and  appeal 
came  from  her  bosom,  and  she  began  to  whimper  pret- 
tily: 

They  had  hustled  her  and  frightened  her  for  one  thing ; 
and  her  cousin's  thoughtlessness  in  not  even  telling  his 

B 


26  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

servant  they  were  coming  was  cruel ;  and  the  servant's 
caution,  however  wise  and  faithful  to  his  master,  was 
bitterly  mortifying  to  her  father  and  her.  And  to  her — 
so  mortified,  and  anxious  and  jostled — came  suddenly 
this  kind  hand  and  face.  "  Hinc  illse  lacrimse." 

"  All  is  well  now,"  remarked  a  coarse  humorist ;  "  she 
has  gotten  her  sweetheart." 

"  Haw !  haw !  haw  !"  went  the  crowd. 

She  dropped  Gerard's  hand  directly,  and  turned  round, 
with  eyes  flashing  through  her  tears : 

"I  have  no  sweetheart,  you  rude  men.  But  I  am 
friendless  in  your  boorish  town,  and  this  is  a  friend ;  and 
one  who  knows,  what  you  know  not,  how  to  treat  the 
aged  and  the  weak." 

The  crowd  was  dead  silent.  They  had  only  been 
thoughtless,  and  now  felt  the  rebuke,  though  severe,  was 
just.  The  silence  enabled  Gerard  to  treat  with  the  por- 
ter. 

"  I  am  a  competitor,  sir." 

"  "What  is  your  name  ?"  and  the  man  eyed  him  sus- 
piciously. 

"  Gerard,  the  son  of  Gerard." 

The  janitor  inspected  a  slip  of  parchment  he  held  in 
his  hand : 

"  Gerard  Gerardssoen  can  enter." 

"  With  my  company — these  two  ?" 

"  Nay ;  those  are  not  your  company :  they  came  before 
you." 

"  What  matter  ?  they  are  my  friends,  and  without 
them  I  go  not  in." 

"  Stay  without,  then." 

"  That  will  I  not." 

"  That  we  will  see." 

"  We  will,  and  speedily." 

Gerard  then  raised  a  voice  of  astounding  volume  and 
power,  and  shouted,  so  that  the  whole  street  rang : 

"  Ho !  PHILIP  EAEL  OP  HOLLAND  !" 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  29 

"  Are  you  mad  ?" 

"  HERE  is  ONE  OF  YOUR  TABLETS  DEFIES  YOU." 

"Hush,  hush!" 

"  AND  WILL  NOT  LET  YOUR  GUESTS  PASS  IN." 

"Hush!  murder!  The  Duke's  there!  I'm  dead!" 
cried  the  janitor,  quaking. 

Then  suddenly  trying  to  overpower  Gerard's  thunder, 
he  shouted,  with  all  his  lungs : 

"OPEN    THE    GATE,    YE    KNAVES !       WAY    THERE    FOR 

GERARD  GERARDSSOEN  AND  HIS  COMPANY  !  (the  fiends  go 
with  him !)" 

The  gate  swung  open  as  by  magic.  Eight  soldiers 
lowered  their  pikes  half  way,  and  made  an  arch,  under 
which  the  victorious  three  marched  in  triumphant.  The 
moment  they  had  passed,  the  pikes  clashed  together 
horizontally  to  bar  the  gateway,  and  all  but  pinned  an 
abdominal  citizen  that  sought  to  be  of  Gerard's  company 
unbidden. 

Once  passed  the  guarded  portal,  a  few  steps  brought 
the  trio  upon  a  scene  of  Oriental  luxury.  The  court- 
yard was  laid  out  in  tables  loaded  with  rich  meats,  and 
literally  piled  with  gorgeous  plate.  Guests  in  rich  and 
vaiious  costumes  sat  beneath  a  leafy  canopy  of  fresh-cut 
branches  fastened  tastefully  to  golden,  silver,  and  blue 
silken  cords  that  traversed  the  area ;  and  fruits  of  many 
hues,  including  some  artificial  ones  of  gold,  silver,  and 
wax,  hung  pendent,  or  peeped,  like  fair  eyes,  among  the 
green  leaves  of  plane-trees  and  lime-trees.  The  Duke's 
minstrels  swept  their  lutes  'at  intervals,  and  a  fountain 
played  red  Burgundy  in  six  jets  that  met  and  battled  in 
the  air.  The  evening  sun  darted  its  fires  through  those 
bright  and  purple  wine  spouts,  making  them  jets  and 
cascades  of  molten  rubies,  then  passing  on,  tinged  with 
the  blood  of  the  grape,  shed  crimson  glories  here  and 
there  on  fair  faces,  snowy  beards,  velvet,  satin,  jeweled 
hilts,  glowing  gold,  gleaming  silver,  and  sparkling  glass. 
Gerard  and  his  friends  stood  dazzled,  spell-bound.  Pres- 


30  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

ently  a  whisper  buzzed  round  them,  "  Salute  the  Duke ! 
Salute  the  Duke !"  They  looked  up,  and  there  on  high, 
under  the  dais,  was  their  sovereign,  bidding  them  wel- 
come with  a  kindly  wave  of  the  hand.  The  men  bowed 
low,  and  Margaret  courtesied  with  a  deep  and  graceful 
obeisance.  The  Duke's  hand  being  up  he  gave  it  another 
turn,  and  pointed  the  new-comers  out  to  a  knot  of  valets. 
Instantly  seven  of  his  people,  with  an  obedient  start, 
went  headlong  at  our  friends,  seated  them  at  a  table, 
and  put  fifteen  many-colored  soups  before  them,  in  little 
silver  bowls,  and  as  many  wines  in  crystal  vases. 

"  Nay,  father,  do  not  let  us  eat  until  we  have  thanked 
our  good  friend,"  said  Margaret,  now  first  recovering 
from  all  this  bustle. 

"  Girl,  he  is  our  guardian  angel." 

Gerard  put  his  face  into  his  hands. 

"  Tell  me  when  you  have  done,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will 
reappear  and  have  my  supper,  for  I  am  hungry.  I  know 
which  of  us  three  is  the  happiest  at  meeting  again." 

"  Me  ?"  inquired  Margaret. 

"No:  guess  again." 

"Father?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  have  no  idea  which  it  can  be ;"  and  she  gave 
a  little  crow  of  happiness  and  gayety.  The  soup  was 
tasted,  and  vanished  in  a  twirl  of  fourteen  hands,  and 
fish  came  on  the  table  in  a  dozen  forms,  with  patties  of 
lobster  and  almonds  mixed,  and  of  almonds  and  cream, 
and  an  immense  variety  of  "  brouets,"  known  to  us  as 
"  rissoles."  The  next  trifle  was  a  wild  boar,  which  smelt 
divine.  Why,  then,  did  Margaret  start  away  from  it 
with  two  shrieks  of  dismay,  and  pinch  so  good  a  friend 
as  Gerard?  Because  the  Duke's  "cuisinier"  had  been 
too  clever ;  had  made  this  excellent  dish  too  captivating 
to  the  sight  as  well  as  taste.  He  had  restored  to  the 
animal,  by  elaborate  mimicry  with  burned  sugar  and 
other  edible  colors,  the  hair  and  bristles  he  had  robbed 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  31 

him  of  by  fire  and  water.  To  make  him  still  more  en- 
ticing, the  huge  tusks  were  carefully  preserved  in  the 
brute's  jaw,  and  gave  his  mouth  that  winning  smile  you 
may  have  noticed  as  a  result  of  tusk  in  man  or  beast, 
and  two  eyes  of  colored  sugar  glowed  in  his  head.  St. 
Argus !  what  eyes !  so  bright,  so  bloodshot,  so  threaten- 
ing—  they  followed  a  man  and  his  every  movement. 
But,  indeed,  I  need  the  pencil  of  my  artist  associate  to 
make  you  see  the  two  gilt  valets  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table  putting  the  monster  down  before  our  friends,  with 
a  smiling,  self-satisfied,  benevolent  obsequiousness — for 
this  ghastly  monster  was  the  flower  of  all  comestibles ; 
old  Peter  clasping  both  hands  in  pious  admiration  of  it ; 
Margaret  wheeling  round  with  horror-stricken  eyes  and 
her  hand  on  Gerard's  shoulder,  squeaking  and  pinching ; 
his  face  of  foolish  delight  at  being  pinched,  the  grizzly 
brute  glaring  sulkily  on  all,  and  the  guests  grinning  from 
ear  to  ear. 

"  What's  to  do  ?"  shouted  the  Duke,  hearing  the  sig- 
nals of  distress.  Seven  of  his  people  with  a  zealous  start 
went  headlong  and  told  him.  He  laughed,  and  said, 
"  Give  her  of  the  beef-stuffing,  then,  and  bring  me  Sir 
Boar."  Benevolent  monarch !  The  beef-stuffing  was 
his  own  private  dish. 

On  these  grand  occasions  an  ox  was  roasted  whole, 
and  reserved  for  the  poor.  But  this  wise  as  well  as 
charitable  prince  had  discovered,  that  whatever  venison, 
hares,  lamb,  poultry,  etc.,  you  skewered  into  that  beef 
cavern,  got  cooked  to  perfection,  retaining  their  own 
juices  and  receiving  those  of  the  reeking  ox.  These  he 
called  his  beef-stuffing,  and  took  delight  therein,  as  did 
now  our  trio ;  for  at  his  word,  seven  of  his  people  went 
headlong,  and  drove  silver  tridents  into  the  steaming 
cave  at  random,  and  speared  a  kid,  a  cygnet,  and  a  flock 
of  wild  fowl.  These  presently  smoked  before  Gerard 
and  company ;  and  Peter's  face,  profoundly  sad  and 
slightly  morose  at  the  loss  of  the  savage  hog,  expanded 


32  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

and  shone.  After  this,  twenty  different  tarts  of  fruits 
and  herbs,  and  last  of  all,  confectionery  on  a  Titanic 
scale — cathedrals  of  sugar,  all  gilt  and  painted  in  the 
interstices  of  the  bas-reliefs;  castles  with  their  moats, 
and  ditches,  imitated  to  the  life ;  elephants,  camels,  toads ; 
knights  on  horseback  justing ;  kings  and  princesses  look- 
ing on;  trumpeters  blowing;  and  ah1  these  characters 
delicious  eating,  and  their  veins  filled  with  sweet-scented 
juices — works  of  art  made  to  be  destroyed.  The  guests 
breached  a  bastion,  crunched  a  crusader  and  his  horse 
and  lance,  or  cracked  a  Bishop,  cope,  chasuble,  crosier 
and  all,  as  remorselessly  as  we  do  a  caraway  comfit; 
sipping,  meanwhile,  hippocras  and  other  spiced  drinks, 
and  Greek  and  Corsican  wines,  while  every  now  and  then 
little  Turkish  boys,  turbaned,  spangled,  jeweled,  and  gilt, 
came  offering  on  bended  knee  golden  troughs  of  rose- 
water  and  orange-water  to  keep  the  guests'  hands  cool 
and  perfumed. 

But  long  before  our  party  arrived  at  this  final  stage, 
appetite  had  succumbed,  and  one  or  two  circumstances 
had  occurred  apparently  trifling.  Gerard  had  suddenly 
remembered  he  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  the  Princess 
Marie,  and,  in  an  under  tone,  had  asked  one  of  the  serv- 
ants if  he  would  undertake  to  deliver  it.  The  man  took 
it  with  a  deep  obeisance :  "  He  could  not  deliver  it  him- 
self, but  would  instantly  give  it  to  one  of  the  princess's 
suite,  several  of  whom  were  about." 

It  may  be  remembered  that  Peter  and  Margaret  came 
here  not  to  dine,  but  to  find  their  cousin.  Well,  the  old 
gentleman  ate  heartily,  and  being  much  fatigued  dropped 
asleep,  and  forgot  all  about  his  cousin.  Margaret  did 
not  remind  him,  we  shall  hear  why. 

Meantime,  their  cousin,  William  Johnson,  alderman  of 
Rotterdam,  was  seated  within  a  few  feet  of  them,  at  their 
backs,  and  discovered  them  when  Margaret  turned  round 
and  screamed  at  the  boar.  But  he  did  not  speak  to  them, 
for  the  following  reason.  Margaret  was  very  plainly  dress- 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  33 

ed,  and  Peter  inclined  to  threadbare.    So  the  alderman 
said: 

"  'Twill  be  time  to  make  up  to  them  when  the  sun  sets 
and  the  company  disperses:  then  I  will  take  my  poor 
relations  to  my  house,  and  none  will  be  the  wiser." 

Half  the  courses  were  lost  on  Gerard  and  Margaret. 
They  were  no  great  eaters,  and  just  now  were  feeding  on 
sweet  thoughts  that  have  ever  been  unfavorable  to  ap- 
petite. And  it  was  a  relief  to  them  when  the  dessert 
came  and  the  valets  retired  a  few  steps,  and  they  could 
talk  without  being  overheard.  But  there  is  a  delicate 
kind  of  sensuality,  to  whose  influence  these  two  were 
perhaps  more  sensitive  than  any  other  pair  in  that  as- 
sembly ;  the  delights  of  color,  music,  and  perfume,  all  of 
which  blended  so  fascinatingly  here. 

Margaret  leaned  back  and  half  closed  her  eyes,  and 
murmured  to  Gerard :  "  What  a  lovely  scene !  the  warm 
sun,  the  green  shade,  the  rich  dresses,  the  bright  music 
of  the  lutes  and  the  cool  music  of  the  fountain,  and  all 
faces  so  happy  and  gay !  and  it  is  to  you  we  owe  it." 

Gerard  was  silent. 

"  Now,  don't  speak  to  me,"  said  Margaret  languidly, 
"  let  me  listen  to  the  fountain :  what  are  you  a  compet- 
itor for?" 

He  told  her. 

"  Very  well !     You  will  gain  one  prize,  at  least." 

"  "Which  ?  which  ?  have  you  seen  any  of  my  work  ?" 

"  I  ?  no.     But  you  will  gain  a  prize." 

"  I  hope  so :  but  what  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Because  you  were  so  good  to  my  father." 

Gerard  smiled  at  the  feminine  logic,  and  hung  his  head 
at  the  sweet  praise,  and  was  silent. 

"  Don't  speak,"  murmured  Margaret.  "  They  say  this 
is  a  world  of  sin  and  misery.  Can  that  be  ?  What  is 
your  opinion  ?" 

"  No !  that  is  all  a  silly  old  song,"  explained  Gerard. 
B2 


34  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  'Tis  a  by-word  our  elders  keep  repeating  out  of  custom 
— it  is  not  true." 

"  How  can  you  know  ?  you  are  but  a  child,"  said  Mar- 
garet, with  pensive  dignity. 

"  Why  only  look  round !  And  then  I  thought  I  had 
lost  you — forever ;  and  you  are  by  my  side :  and  now 
the  minstrels  are  going  to  play  again.  Sin  and  misery  ? 
Stuff  and  nonsense !" 

"What  do  you  admire  most  of  all  these  beautiful 
things,  Gerard?" 

"  You  know  my  name  ?     How  is  that  ?" 

"  White  magic.     I  am  a  witch." 

"Angels  are  never  witches.  But  I  can't  think  how 
you—" 

"  Foolish  boy !  was  it  not  cried  at  the  gate  loud  enough 
to  deafen  one  ?" 

"  So  it  was.  Where  is  my  head  ?  What  do  I  admire 
most  ?  If  you  will  sit  a  little  more  that  way,  I'll  tell 
you." 

"This  way?" 

"  Yes !  so  that  the  light  may  fall  on  you.  There.  I  see 
many  beautiful  things  here,  more  beautiful  than  I  could 
have  conceived ;  but  the  finest  of  all  to  my  eye,  is  your 
lovely  hair  in  its  silver  frame,  and  the  setting  sun  kissing 
it.  It  minds  me  of  what  the  Vulgate  praised  for  beauty, 
'  an  apple  of  gold  in  a  net-work  of  silver  J  and,  Oh  what  a 
pity  I  did  not  know  you  before  I  sent  in  my  poor  efforts 
at  illuminating !  I  could  illuminate  so  much  better  now. 
I  could  do  every  thing  better.  There,  now  the  sun  is 
full  on  it,  it  is  like  an  aureole.  So  our  Lady  looked,  and 
none  since  her  until  to-day." 

"Oh  fie!  it  is  wicked  to  talk  so.  Compare  a  poor, 
coarse-favored  girl  like  me  with  the  Queen  of  Heaven ! 
Oh  Gerard !  I  thought  you  were  a  good  young  man." 

"  So  I  am.  But  I  can't  help  having  eyes — and  a  heart 
— Margaret." 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  35 

"  Gerard  ?" 

"  Don't  be  angry !" 

"Now,  is  it  likely?" 

"  I  love  you." 

"  Oh  for  shame !  you  must  not  say  that  to  me." 

"  I  can't  help  it.     I  love  you.     I  love  you." 

"  Hush,  hush !  for  pity's  sake !  I  must  not  'listen  to 
such  words  from  a  stranger.  I  am  ungrateful  to  call 
you  a  stranger.  Oh  how  one  may  be  mistaken !  if  I  had 
known  you  were  so  bold — "  And  Margaret's  bosom  be- 
gan to  heave,  and  her  cheeks  were  covered  with  blushes, 
and  she  looked  toward  her  sleeping  father,  very  much 
like  a  timid  thing  that  meditates  actual  flight. 

Then  Gerard  was  frightened  at  the  alarm  he  caused. 
"  Forgive  me,"  said  he  imploringly.  "  How  could  any 
one  help  loving  you !" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  will  try  and  forgive  you — you  are  so  good 
in  other  respects ;  but  then  you  must  promise  never  to 
say  you — to  say  that  again." 

"  Give  me  your  hand  then,  or  you  don't  forgive  me." 

She  hesitated ;  but  eventually  put  out  her  hand  a  very 
little  way,  very  slowly.  He  took  it,  and  held  it  prisoner. 
When  she  thought  it  had  been  there  long  enough,  she 
tried  gently  to  draw  it  away.  He  held  it  tight :  it  sub- 
mitted quite  patiently  to  force.  What  is  the  use  of  re- 
sisting force  ?  She  turned  her  head  away,  and  her  long 
eyelashes  drooped  sweetly.  Gerard  lost  nothing  by  his 
promise.  Words  were  not  needed  here :  and  silence  was 
more  eloquent.  Nature  was  in  that  day  what  she  is  in 
ours ;  but  manners  were  somewhat  freer.  Then,  as  now, 
virgins  drew  back  alarmed  at  the  first  words  of  love ;  but 
of  prudery  and  artificial  coquetry  there  was  little,  and  the 
young  soon  read  one  another's  hearts.  Every  thing  was 
in  Gerard's  favor :  his  good  looks,  her  belief  in  his  good- 
ness, her  gratitude ;  and,  at  the  Duke's  banquet  this  mel- 
low summer  eve,  all  things  disposed  the  female  nature  to 
tenderness ;  the  avenues  to  the  heart  lay  open ;  the  senses 


36  A    GOOD    KIGHT. 

were  so  soothed  and  subdued  with  lovely  colors,  gentle 
sounds,  and  delicate  odors ;  the  sun  gently  sinking,  the 
warm  air,  the  green  canopy,  the  cool  music  of  the  now 
violet  fountain. 

Gerard  and  Margaret  sat  hand  in  hand  in  silence :  and 
Gerard's  eyes  sought  hers  lovingly ;  and  hers  now  and 
then  turned  on  him  timidly  and  imploringly:  and  two 
sweet  unreasonable  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  and 
she  smiled  deliciously  ere  they  were  dry. 

And  the  sun  declined;  and  the  air  cooled;  and  the 
fountain  plashed  more  gently ;  and  the  pair  throbbed  in 
unison,  and  silence,  and  this  weary  world  was  heaven  to 
them. 


3&T-,  •     f  ^ 

j         is   rT 

1     i    h  •    II 

Of  "  1      E  '•£- 

Oh    the  merry 

d; 

^     J  jJ  -^     ~*i  f=j  —  ~  b 

tys,    the  merry  days  when  we  were  young; 

W  1    ,.,     U   QI..L-"       a-JaM-*      -*«   J"l     1      j—  H- 

Oh     the  merry   days,    the  merry  days  when  we  were    young. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  GEAVE  white-haired  seneschal  came  to  their  table, 
and  inquired  courteously  whether  Gerard  Gerardssoen 
was  of  their  company.  Upon  Gerard's  answer,  he  said, 

"The  Princess  Marie  would  confer  with  you,  young 
sir ;  I  am  to  conduct  you  to  her  presence," 

Instantly  all  faces  within  hearing  turned  sharp  round, 
and  were  bent  with  curiosity  and  envy  on  the  man  that 
was  to  go  to  a  princess. 

Gerard  rose  to  obey. 

"  I  wager  we  shall  not  see  you  again,"  said  Margaret, 
calmly,  but  coloring  a  little. 

"  That  will  you,"  was  the  reply :  then  he  whispered  in 
her  ear.  "  This  is  my  good  princess ;  but  you  are  my 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  37 

queen."  He  added  aloud  :  "  Wait  for  me,  I  pray  you ; 
I  will  presently  return." 

"  Ay,  ay !"  said  Peter,  who  had  just  awoke. 

Gerard  gone,  the  pair  whose  dress  was  so  homely,  yet 
they  were  with  the  man  whom  the  princess  sent  for,  be- 
came "  the  cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes ;"  observing 
which,  William  Johnson  came  forward,  acted  surprise, 
and  claimed  his  relations : 

"  And  to  think  that  there  was  I  at  your  backs,  and  you 
saw  me  not." 

"  Pardon  me,  cousin  Johnson,  I  saw  you  long  since," 
said  Margaret,  coldly. 

"  You  saw  me,  and  spoke  not  to  me  ?" 

"  Nay,  cousin,  it  was  for  you  to  welcome  us  to  Rotter- 
dam, as  it  is  for  us  to  welcome  you  at  Sevenbergen. 
Your  servant  denied  us  a  seat  in  your  house." 

"The  idiot!" 

"  And  I  had  a  mind  to  see  whether  it  was  '  like  maid 
like  master :'  for  there  is  sooth  in  by-words." 

William  Johnson  blushed  purple.  He  saw  Margaret 
was  keen,  and  suspected  him.  He  did  the  wisest  thing 
under  the  circumstances — trusted  to  deeds  not  words. 
He  insisted  on  their  coming  home  with  him  at  once,  and 
he  would  show  them  whether  they  were  welcome  to  Rot- 
terdam or  not. 

"  Who  doubts  it,  cousin  ?  Who  doubts  it  ?"  said  the 
scholar. 

Margaret  thanked  him  graciously,  but  demurred  to  go 
just  now:  said  she  wanted  to  hear  the  minstrels  again. 
In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Johnson  renewed  his  pro- 
posal, and  bade  her  observe  that  many  of  the  guests  had 
left.  Then  her  real  reason  came  out. 

"  It  were  ill  manners  to  our  friend :  and  he  will  lose 
us.  He  knows  not  where  we  lodge  in  Rotterdam,  and 
the  city  is  large,  and  we  have  parted  company  once  al- 
ready. 

"  Oh  1"  said  Johnson,  "  we  will  provide  for  that.    My 


38  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

young  man,  ahem !  I  mean  my  secretary,  shall  sit  here 
and  wait,  and  bring  him  on  to  my  house :  he  shall  lodge 
with  me  and  with  no  other." 

"  Cousin,  we  shall  be  too  burdensome." 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  shah1  see  whether  you  are  welcome  or 
not — you  and  your  friends,  and  your  friends'  friends,  if 
need  be ;  and  I  shall  hear  what  the  princess  would  with 
him." 

-  Margaret  felt  a  thrill  of  joy  that  Gerard  should  be 
lodged  under  the  same  roof  with  her ;  then  she  had  a 
slight  misgiving.  "  But  if  your  young  man  should  be 
thoughtless,  and  go  play,  and  Gerard  miss  him — " 

"He  go  play?  He  leave  the  spot  where  I  put  him, 
and  bid  him  stay  ?  Ho !  Stand  forth,  Hans  Cloterman." 

A  figure  clad  in  black  serge  and  dark  violet  hose  got 
up,  and  took  two  steps  and  stood  before  them  without 
moving  a  muscle :  a  solemn,  precise  young  man,  the  very 
statue  of  gravity  and  starched  propriety.  At  his  aspect 
Margaret,  being  very  happy,  could  hardly  keep  her  coun- 
tenance. But  she  whispered  Johnson,  "  I  would  put  my 
hand  in  the  fire  for  him!  We  are  at  your  command, 
cousin,  as  soon  as  you  have  given  him  his  orders." 

Hans  was  then  instructed  to  sit  at  the  table  and  wait 
for  Gerard,  and  conduct  him  to  Ooster-Waagen  Street. 
He  replied,  not  in  words,  but  by  calmly  taking  the  seat 
indicated,  and  Margaret,  Peter,  and  William  Johnson 
went  with  the  latter. 

"  And,  indeed,  it  is  time  you  were  abed,  father,  after 
ah1  your  travel,"  said  Margaret.  This  had  been  hi  her 
mind  all  along. 

Hans  Cloterman  sat  waiting  for  Gerard,  solemn  and 
business-like.  The  minutes  flew  by,  but  excited  no  im- 
patience in  that  perfect  young  man.  Johnson  did  him 
no  more  than  justice  when  he  laughed  to  scorn  the  idea 
of  his  secretary  leaving  his  post,  or  neglecting  his  duty,  in 
pursuit  of  sport,  or  out  of  youthful  hilarity  and  frivolity. 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  39 

As  Gerard  was  long  in  coming,  the  patient  Hans — his 
employer's  eye  being  no  longer  on  him — "tandem  cus- 
tode  remoto,"  improved  the  time  by  quaffing  solemnly, 
silently,  and  at  short  but  accurately  measured  intervals, 
goblets  of  Corsican  wine.  The  wine  was  strong,  so  was 
Cloterman's  head :  and  it  was  not  until  Gerard  had  been 
gone  a  good  hour  the  model  secretary  had  imbibed  the 
notion  that  creation  expected  of  Cloterman  to  drink  the 
health  of  all  good  fellows,  and  "nommement"  of  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  there  present.  With  this  view,  he  filled 
bumper  nine,  and  rose  gingerly,  but  solemnly  and  slow- 
ly. Having  reached  his  full  height,  he  instantly  rolled 
upon  the  grass  goblet  in  hand,  spilling  the  cold  liquor  on 
many  an  ankle,  but  not  disturbing  a  muscle  in  his  own 
long  face,  which,  in  .the  total  eclipse  of  reason,  retained 
its  gravity,  primness,  and  infallibility. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  seneschal  led  Gerard  through  several  passages  to 
the  door  of  a  pavilion,  where  some  young  noblemen,  em- 
broidered and  feathered,  sat  sentinel,  guarding  the  heir- 
apparent,  and  playing  cards  by  the  red  light  of  torches 
their  servants  held.  A  whisper  from  the  seneschal,  and 
one  of  them  rose  reluctantly,  stared  at  Gerard  with 
haughty  surprise,  and  entered  the  pavilion.  He  present- 
ly returned,  and,  beckoning  the  pair,  led  them  through  a 
•passage  or  two  and  landed  them  in  an  ante-chamber, 
where  sat  three  more  young  gentlemen,  feathered,  fur- 
red, and  embroidered  like  pieces  of  fancy-work,  and 
deep  in  that  instructive  and  edifying  branch  of  learning, 
dice. 

"  You  can't  see  the  Princess — it  is  too  late,"  said  one. 

Another  followed  suit : 

"  She  passed  this  way  but  now  with  her  nurse.  She  is 
gone  to  bed,  doll  and  all — duece-ace  again !" 


40  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

Gerard  prepared  to  retire.  The  seneschal,  with  an  in- 
credulous smile,  replied : 

"  The  young  man  is  here  by  the  countess's  orders ;  be 
so  good  as  conduct  him  to  her  ladies." 

On  this  a  superb  Adonis  rose,  with  an  injured  look, 
and  led  Gerard  into  a  room  where  sat  or  lolloped  eleven 
ladies,  chattering  like  magpies.  Two,  more  industrious 
than  the  rest,  were  playing  cat's-cradle,  with  fingers  as 
nimble  as  their  tongues.  At  the  sight  of  a  stranger  all 
the  tongues  stopped  like  one  piece  of  complicated  ma- 
chinery, and  all  the  eyes  turned  on  Gerard,  as  if  the  same 
string  that  checked  the  tongues  had  turned  the  eyes  on. 
Gerard  was  ill  at  ease  before,  but  this  battery  of  eyes 
discountenanced  him,  and  down  went  his  eyes  on  the 
ground.  Then  the  cowards  finding,  like  the  hare  who 
ran  by  the  pond  and  the  frogs  scuttled  into  the  water, 
that  there  was  a  creature  they  could  frighten,  giggled 
and  enjoyed  their  prowess.  Then  a  duenna  said,  severe- 
ly, "  Mesdames !"  and  they  were  abashed  as  one  woman. 
This  same  duenna  took  Gerard,  and  marched  before  him 
in  solemn  silence.  The  young  man's  heart  sank,  and  he 
had  half  a  mind  to  turn  and  run  out  of  the  place.  "  What 
must  princes  be,"  he  thought,  "  when  their  courtiers  are 
so  freezing.  Of  course  they  take  their  breeding  from 
him  they  serve."  These  reflections  were  interrupted  by 
the  duenna  suddenly  introducing  him  into  a  room  where 
three  ladies  sat  working,  and  a  pretty  little  girl  tuning  a 
lute.  The  ladies  were  richly  but  not  showily  dressed, 
and  the  duenna  went  up  to  the  one  who  was  hemming  a 
kerchief,  and  said  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone.  This  lady 
then  turned  toward  Gerard,  with  a  smile,  and  beckoned 
him  to  come  near  her.  She  did  not  rise,  but  she  laid 
aside  her  work,  and  her  manner  of  turning  toward  him, 
slight  as  the  movement  was,  was  full  of  grace  and  ease 
and  courtesy.  She  began  a  conversation  at  once. 

"Margaret  Van  Eyck  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  sir,  and 
I  am  right  glad  to  have  a  letter  from  her  hand,  and  thank- 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  43 

ful  to  you,  sir,  for  bringing  it  to  me  safely.  Marie,  my 
love,  this  is  the  young  gentleman  who  brought  you  that 
pretty  miniature." 

"  Sir,  I  thank  you  a  thousand  tunes,"  said  the  young 
lady. 

"  I  am  glad  you  feel  obliged  to  him,  sweetheart,  for 
our  friend  wishes  us  to  do  him  a  little  service  in  return." 

"  I  will  do  any  thing  on  earth  for  him,"  replied  the 
young  lady,  with  ardor. 

"Any  thing  on  earth  is  nothing  in  the  world,"  said  the 
Countess  of  Charolois,  quietly. 

"  Well,  then,  I  will What  would  you  have  me  to 

do,  sir?" 

Gerard  had  just  found  out  what  high  society  he  was 
in.  "My  sovereign  demoiselle,"  said  he,  gently  and  a 
little  tremulously, "  where  there  have  been  no  pains  there 
needs  no  reward." 

"  But  we  must  obey  mamma.  All  the  world  must  obey 
mamma." 

"  That  is  true.  Then,  our  demoiselle,  reward  me,  if 
you  will,  by  letting  me  hear  the  stave  you  were  going  to 
sing  and  I  interrupted  it." 

"  What,  you  love  music,  sir  ?" 

"  I  adore  it." 

The  little  princess  looked  inquiringly  at  her  mother, 
and  received  a  smile  of  assent.  She  then  took  her  lute 
and  sang  a  romaunt  of  the  day.  Although  but  twelve 
years  old,  she  was  a  well-taught  and  pains-taking  musi- 
cian. Her  little  claw  swept  the  chords  with  courage  and 
precision,  and  struck  out  the  notes  of  the  arpeggio  clear 
and  distinct,  and  bright  like  twinkling  stars ;  but  the 
maui  charm  was  her  voice.  It  was  not  mighty,  but  it 
was  round,  clear,  full,  and  ringing  like  a  bell.  She  sang 
with  a  certain  modest  eloquence,  though  she  knew  none 
of  the  tricks  of  feeling.  She  was  too  young  to  be  theat- 
rical, or  even  sentimental,  so  nothing  was  forced — all 
gushed.  Her  little  mouth  seemed  the  mouth  of  Nature. 


44  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

The  ditty,  too,  was  as  pure  as  its  utterance.  As  there 
were  none  of  those  false  divisions — those  whining  slurs, 
which  are  now  sold  so  dear  by  Italian  songsters,  though 
every  jackal  in  India  delivers  them  gratis  to  his  custom- 
ers all  night,  and  sometimes  gets  shot  for  them,  and  al- 
ways deserves  it — so  there  were  no  cadences  and  fiori- 
turi ;  the  trite,  turgid,  and  feeble  expletives  of  song,  the 
skim-milk,  with  which  mindless  musicians  and  mindless 
writers  quench  fire,  wash  out  color,  and  drown  melody 
and  meaning  dead. 

While  the  pure  and  tender  strain  was  flowing  from 
the  pure  young  throat,  Gerard's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
The  countess  watched  him  with  interest,  for  it  was  usual 
to  applaud  the  princess  loudly,  but  not  with  cheek  and 
eye.  So  when  the  voice  ceased,  and  the  glasses  left  off 
ringing,  she  asked  demurely,  "  Was  he  satisfied  ?" 

Gerard  gave  a  little  start ;  the  spoken  voice  broke  a 
charm,  and  brought  him  back  to  earth. 

"  Oh,  madam !"  he  cried,  "  surely  it  is  thus  that  cherubs 
and  seraphs  sing  and  charm  the  saints  in  heaven." 

"  I  am  somewhat  of  your  opinion,  my  young  friend," 
said  the  countess,  with  emotion ;  and  she  bent  a  look  of 
love  and  gentle  pride  upon  her  girl :  a  heavenly  look, 
such  as,  they  say,  is  given  to  the  eye  of  the  short-lived 
resting  on  the  short-lived. 

The  countess  resumed : 

"  My  old  friend  requests  me  to  be  serviceable  to  you. 
It  is  the  first  favor  she  has  done  us  the  honor  of  asking 
us,  and  the  request  is  sacred.  You  are  in  holy  orders, 
sir?" 

Gerard  bowed. 

*'  I  fear  you  are  jiot  a  priest,  you  look  too  young." 

"  Oh  no,  madam !  I  am  not  even  a  sub-deacon.  I  am 
only  a  lector ;  but  next  month  I  shall  be  an  exorcist ; 
and  before  long  an  acolyth." 

"  Well,  Monsieur  Gerard,  with  your  accomplishments 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  45 

you  can  soon  pass  through  the  inferior  orders.  And  let 
me  beg  you  to  do  so.  For  the  day  after  you  have  said 
your  first  mass,  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  appointing 
you  to  a  benefice." 

"  Oh,  madam !" 

"And  Marie,  remember  I  make  this  promise  in  your 
name  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  Fear  not,  mamma :  I  will  not  forget.  But  if  he  will 
take  my  advice,  what  he  will  be  is  Bishop  of  Liege.  The 
Bishop  of  Liege  is  a  beautiful  bishop.  What !  don't  you 
remember  him,  mamma,  that  day  we  were  at  Liege  ?  he 
was  braver  than  grandpapa  himself.  He  had  on  a  crown 
— a  high  one,  and  it  was  cut  in  the  middle,  and  it  was 
full  of  oh !  such  beautiful  jewels :  and  his  gown  stiff  with 
gold ;  and  his  mantle,  too ;  and  it  had  a  broad  border  all 
pictures :  but,  above  all,  his  gloves ;  you  have  no  such 
gloves,  mamma.  They  were  embroidered  and  covered 
with  jewels,  and  scented  with  such  lovely  scent ;  I  smelt 
them  all  the  time  he  was  giving  me  his  blessing  on  my 
head  with  them.  Dear  old  man !  I  dare  say  he  will  die 
soon — most  old  people  do — and  then,  sir,  you  can  be 
bishop,  you  know,  and  wear — " 

"  Gently,  Marie,  gently :  bishoprics  are  for  old  gentle- 
men ;  and  this  is  a  young  gentleman." 

"  Mamma !  he  is  not  so  very  young." 

"  Not  compared  with  you,  Marie,  eh  ?" 

"  He  is  a  good  bigness,  dear  mamma ;  and  I  am  sure 
he  is  good  enough  for  a  bishop." 

"  Alas,  mademoiselle !  you  are  mistaken." 

"  I  don't  know  that,  Monsieur  Gerard ;  but  I  am  a  lit- 
tle puzzled  to  know  on  what  grounds  mademoiselle  there 
pronounced  your  character  so  boldly." 

"  Alas,  mamma !"  said  the  princess,  "  you  have  not 
looked  at  his  face  then ;"  and  she  raised  her  eyebrows  at 
her  mother's  simplicity. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  countess,  "I  have. 
Well,  sir,  if  I  can  not  go  quite  so  fast  as  my  daughter, 


46  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

attribute  it  to  my  age,  not  to  a  want  of  interest  in  your 
welfare.  A  benefice  will  do  to  begin  your  career  with ; 
and  I  must  take  care  it  is  not  too  far  from — what  call 
you  the  place  ?" 

"  Tergou,  madam." 

"  A  priest  gives  up  "much,"  continued  the  coxintess ; 
"  often,  I  fear,  he  learns  too  late  how  much :"  and  her 
woman's  eye  rested  a  moment  on  Gerard  with  mild  pity 
and  half  surprise  at  his  resigning  her  sex,  and  all  the 
heaven  they  can  bestow,  and  the  great  parental  joys : 
"  at  least  you  shall  be  near  your  friends.  Have  you  a 
mother  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam ;  thanks  be  to  God !" 

"  Good !  You  shall  have  a  church  near  Tergou.  She 
will  thank  me.  And  now,  sir,  we  must  not  detain  you 
too  long  from  those  who  have  a  better  claim  on  your  so- 
ciety than  we  have.  Duchess,  oblige  me  by  bidding 
one  of  the  pages  conduct  him  to  the  hall  of  banquet ;  the 
way  is  hard  to  find." 

Gerard  bowed  low  to  the  countess  and  the  princess, 
and  backed  toward  the  door. 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  a  nice  benefice,"  said  the  princess  to 
him,  with  a  pretty  smile,  as  he  was  going  out;  then, 
shaking  her  head  with  an  air  of  solemn  misgiving,  "  but 
you  had  better  have  been  Bishop  of  Liege." 

Gerard  followed  his  new  conductor,  his  heart  warm 
with  gratitude :  but  ere  he  reached  the  banquet-hall  a 
chill  came  over  him.  The  mind  of  one  who  has  led  a 
quiet,  uneventful  life,  is  not  apt  to  take  in  contradictory 
feelings  at  the  same  moment  and  balance  them,  but  rath- 
er to  be  overpowered  by  each  in  turn.  While  Gerard 
was  with  the  countess,  the  excitement  of  so  new  a  situa- 
tion, the  unlooked-for  promise,  the  joy  and  pride  it  would 
cause  at  home,  possessed  him  wholly :  but  now  it  was 
passion's  turn  to  be  heard  again.  What,  give  up  Marga- 
ret, whose  soft  hand  he  still  felt  in  his,  and  her  deep  eyes 
in  his  heart  ?  resign  her  and  all  the  world  of  love  and 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  47 

joy  she  had  opened  on  him  to-day  ?  The  revulsion,  when 
it  did  come,  was  so  strong,  that  he  hastily  resolved  to 
say  nothing  at  home  about  the  offered  benefice.  "  The 
countess  is  so  good,"  thought  he,  "  she  has  a  hundred 
ways  of  aiding  a  young  man's  fortune :  she  will  not  com- 
pel me  to  be  a  priest  when  she  shall  learn  I  love  one  of 
her  sex :  one  would  almost  think  she  does  know  it,  for 
she  cast  a  strange  look  on  me,  and  said, '  A  priest  gives 
up  much,  too  much.'  I  dare  say  she  will  give  me  a  place 
about  the  palace."  And  with  this  "hopeful  reflection  his 
mind  was  eased,  and,  being  now  at  the  entrance  of  the 
banqueting-hall,  he  thanked  his  conductor,  and  ran  hasti- 
ly with  joyful  eyes  to  Margaret.  He  came  in  sight  of 
the  table — she  was  gone.  Peter  was  gone  too.  No- 
body was  at  the  table  at  all ;  only  a  citizen  in  sober  gar- 
ments had  just  tumbled  under  it  dead  drunk,  and  several 
persons  were  raising  him  to  carry  him  away.  Gerard 
never  guessed  how  important  this  solemn  drunkard  was 
to  him:  he  was  looking  for  "Beauty,"  and  let  "the 
beast"  lie.  He  ran  wildly  round  the  hall,  which  was 
now  comparatively  empty.  She  was  not  there.  He  left 
the  palace :  outside  he  found  a  crowd  gaping  at  two 
great  fan-lights  just  lighted  over  the  gate.  He  asked 
them  earnestly  if  they  had  seen  an  old  man  in  a  gown, 
and  a  lovely  girl  pass  out.  They  laughed  at  the  ques- 
tion. "  They  were  staring  at  these  new  lights  that  turn 
night  into  day.  They  didn't  trouble  their  heads  about 
old  men  and  young  wenches,  every-day  sights."  From 
another  group  he  learned  there  was  a  mystery  being 
played  under  canvas  hard  by,  and  all  the  world  gone  to 
see  it.  This  revived  his  hopes,  and  he  went  and  saw  the 
mystery.  In  this  representation  divine  personages,  too 
sacred  for  me  to  name  here,  came  clumsily  down  from 
heaven  to  talk  sophistry  with  the  cardinal  virtues,  the 
nine  muses,  and  the  seven  deadly  sins,  all  present  in  hu- 
man shape,  and  not  unlike  one  another.  To  enliven 
which  weary  stuff  in  rattled  the  prince  of  the  power  of 


48  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

the  air,  and  an  imp  that  kept  molesting  him  and  buffet- 
ing hun  with  a  bladder,  at  each  thwack  of  which  the 
crowd  were  in  ecstasies.  "When  the  vices  had  uttered 
good  store  of  obscenity  and  the  virtues  twaddle,  the  ce- 
lestials, including  the  nine  muses,  went  gingerly  back  to 
heaven  one  by  one ;  for  there  was  but  one  cloud ;  and 
two  artisans  worked  it  up  with  its  supernatural  freight, 
and  worked  it  down  with  a  winch,  in  full  sight  of  the  au- 
dience. These  disposed  of,  the  bottomless  pit  opened 
and  flamed  in  the  centre  of  the  stage :  the  carpenters  and 
virtues  shoved  the  vices  in,  and  the  virtues  and  Beelzebub 
and  his  tormentor  danced  merrily  round  the  place  of 
eternal  torture  to  the  fife  and  tabor. 

This  entertainment  was  written  by  the  Bishop  of  Ghent 
for  the  diffusion  of  religious  sentiment  by  the  aid  of  the 
senses,  and  was  an  average  specimen  of  theatrical  exhi- 
bitions so  long  as  they  were  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy. 
But,  alas !  in  course  of  time  the  laity  conducted  the  plays, 
and  so  the  theatre,  my  reverend  friends  inform  me,  has 
become  profane. 

Margaret  was  nowhere  in  the  crowd,  and  Gerard 
could  not  enjoy  the  performance :  he  actually  went  away 
in  Act  2,  in  the  midst  of  a  much-admired  piece  of  dia- 
logue, in  which  Justice  outquibbled  Satan.  He  walked 
through  many  streets,  but  could  not  find  her  he  sought. 
At  last,  fairly  worn  out,  he  went  to  a  hostelry  and  slept 
till  daybreak.  All  that  day,  heavy  and  heartsick,  he 
sought  her,  but  could  never  fall  in  with  her  or  her  father, 
nor  ever  obtain  the  slightest  clew.  Then  he  felt  she  was 
false,  or  had  changed  her  mind.  He  was  irritated  now, 
as  well  as  sad.  More  good  fortune  fell  on  him :  he  al- 
most hated  it.  At  last,  on  the  third  day,  after  he  had 
once  more  been  through  every  street,  he  said, "  She  is  not 
in  the  town,  and  I  shall  never  see  her  again.  I  will  go 
home."  He  started  for  Tergou  with  royal  favor  prom- 
ised, with  fifteen  golden  angels  in  his  purse,  a  golden 
medal  on  his  bosom,  and  a  heart  like  a  lump  of  lead. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  49 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IT  was  near  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Gerard  was 
in  the  shop.  His  eldest  and  youngest  sons  were  abroad. 
Catherine  and  her  little  crippled  daughter  had  long  been 
anxious  about  Gerard,  and  now  they  were  gone  a  little 
way  down  the  road,  to  see  if  by  good  luck  he  might  be 
visible  in  the  distance ;  and  Giles  was  alone  in  the  sitting- 
room,  which  I  will  sketch,  furniture  and  dwarf  included. 

The  Hollanders  were  always  an  original  and  leading  peo- 
ple. At  different  epochs  they  invented  printing  (wooden 
type),  oil-painting,  liberty,  banking,  gardening,  etc. ;  above 
all,  years  before  my  tale,  they  invented  cleanliness.  So, 
while  the  English  gentry,  in  velvet  jerkins  and  chicken- 
toed  shoes,  trod  floors  of  stale  rushes,  foul  receptacle  of 
bones,  decomposing  morsels,  spittle,  dogs'  eggs,  and  all 
abominations,  this  hosier's  sitting-room  at  Tergou  was 
floored  with  Dutch  tiles,  so  highly  glazed  and  constantly 
washed,  that  you  could  eat  off  them.  There  was  one 
large  window ;  the  cross  stone- work  in  the  centre  of  it 
was  very  massive,  and  stood  in  relief,  looking  like  an 
actual  cross  to  the  inmates,  and  was  eyed  as  such  in  their 
devotions.  The  panes  were  very  small  and  lozenge- 
shaped,  and  soldered  to  one  another  with  strips  of  lead : 
the  like  you  may  see  to  this  day  in  some  of  our  rural 
cottages.  The  chairs  were  rude  and  primitive,  all  but 
the  arm-chair,  whose  back,  at  right  angles  with  its  seat, 
was  so  high  that  the  sitter's  head  stopped  two  feet  short 
of  the  top.  This  chair  was  of  oak,  and  carved  at  the 
summit.  There  was  a  copper  pail,  that  went  in  at  the 
waist,  holding  holy  water ;  and  a  little  hand-besom  to 
sprinkle  it  far  and  wide ;  and  a  long,  narrow,  but  mas- 
sive oak  table,  with  a  dwarf  sticking  to  the  rim  by  his 
teeth,  his  eyes  glaring,  and  his  claws  in  the  air  like  a 

C 


50  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

pouncing  vampire.  Nature,  it  would  seem,  did  not  make 
Giles  a  dwarf  out  of  malice  prepense :  she  constructed  a 
head  and  torso  with  her  usual  care,  but  just  then  her 
attention  was  distracted,  and  she  left  the  rest  to  chance ; 
the  result  was  a  human  wedge,  an  inverted  cone.  He 
might  with  justice  have  taken  her  to  task  in  the  terms 
of  Horace : 

amphora  coepit 
Institui ;  currente  rota  cur  urceus  exit  ? 

His  centre  was  any  thing  but  his  centre  of  gravity.  Bi- 
sected, upper  Giles  would  have  outweighed  three  lower 
Gileses.  But  this  very  disproportion  enabled  him  to  do 
feats  that  would  have  baffled  Milo.  His  brawny  arms 
had  no  weight  to  draw  after  them ;  so  he  could  go  up  a 
vertical  pole  like  a  squirrel,  and  hang  for  hours  from  a 
bough  by  one  hand  like  a  cherry  by  its  stalk.  If  he 
could  have  made  a  vacuum  with  his  hands,  as  the  lizard  is 
said  to  do  with  its  feet,  he  would  have  gone  along  a 
ceiling.  Now,  this  pocket  athlete  was  insanely  fond  of 
griping  the  dinner-table  with  both  hands,  and  so  swing- 
ing an  hour  at  a  time ;  and  then — climax  of  delight !  he 
would  seize  it  with  his  teeth,  and,  taking  off  his  hands, 
hold  on  like  grim  death  by  his  huge  ivories. 

But  all  our  joys,  however  elevating,  suffer  interrup- 
tion. Little  Kate  caught  Sampsonet  in  this  posture,  and 
stood  aghast.  She  was  her  mother's  daughter,  and  her 
heart  beat  with  the  furniture,  not  with  the  12mo.  gym- 
nast. 

"  Oh,  Giles !  how  can  you  ?  Mother  would  be  vexed. 
It  dents  the  table." 

"  Go  and  tell  her,  little  tale-bearer,"  snarled  Giles. 
"  You  are  the  one  for  making  mischief." 

"  Am  I  ?"  inquired  Kate,  calmly ;  "  that  is  news  to 
me." 

"  The  biggest  in  Tergou,"  growled  Giles,  fastening  on 
again. 

At  this  Kate  sat  quietly  down  and  cried.     Her  mother 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  51 

came  in  almost  at  that  moment,  and  Giles  hurled  him- 
self under  the  table,  and  there  glared. 

"  What  is  to  do  now  ?"  said  the  dame,  sharply.  Then 
turning  her  experienced  eyes  on  Giles,  and  observing  the 
position  he  had  taken  up,  and  a  sheepish  expression,  she 
hinted  at  cuffing  of  ears. 

"  Nay,  mother,"  said  the  girl ;  "  it  was  but  a  foolish 
word  Giles  spoke.  I  had  not  noticed  it  at  another  tune ; 
but  I  was  tired  and  in  care  for  Gerard,  you  know." 

"  Let  no  one  be  in  care  for  me,"  said  a  faint  voice  at 
the  door,  and  hi  tottered  Gerard,  pale,  dusty,  and  worn 
out ;  and,  amid  uplifted  hands  and  cries  of  delight,  curi- 
osity and  anxiety  mingled,  dropped  almost  fainting  into 
the  nearest  chair. 

Beating  Rotterdam,  like  a  covert,  for  Margaret,  and 
the  long  journey  afterward,  had  fairly  knocked  Gerard 
up.  But  elastic  youth  soon  revived,  and  behold  him  the 
centre  of  an  eager  circle.  First  of  all  they  must  hear 
about  the  prizes.  Then  Gerard  told  them  he  had  been 
admitted  to  see  the  competitors'  works  all  laid  out  in  an 
enormous  hall  —  before  the  judges  pronounced:  "Oh, 
mother !  oh,  Kate !  when  I  saw  the  goldsmiths'  work,  I 
had  like  to  have  fallen  on  the  floor.  I  thought  not  all 
the  goldsmiths  on  earth  had  so  much  gold,  silver,  jewels, 
and  craft  of  design  and  facture.  But,  in  sooth,  all  the 
arts  are  divine." 

Then,  to  please  the  females,  he  described  to  them  the 
reliquaries,  feretories,  calices,  crosiers,  crosses,  pyxes, 
monstrances,  and  other  wonders  ecclesiastical,  and  the 
goblets,  hanaps,  watches,  clocks,  chains,  brooches,  etc., 
so  that  their  mouths  watered. 

"But,  Kate,  when  I  came  to  the  illuminated  work 
from  Ghent  and  Bruges,  my  heart  sank.  Mine  was  dirt 
by  the  side  of  it.  For  the  first  minute  I  could  almost 
have  cried ;  but  I  prayed  for  a  better  spirit,  and  pres- 
ently I  was  able  to  enjoy  them,  and  thank  God  for  those 
lovely  works,  and  for  those  skillful,  patient  craftsmen, 


52  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

that  I  own  my  masters.  Well,  the  colored  work  was  so 
beautiful  I  forgot  all  about  the  black  and  white.  But, 
next  day,  when  all  the  other  prizes  had  been  giren,  they 
came  to  the  writing,  and  whose  name  think  you  was 
called  first?" 

"  Yours,"  said  Kate. 

The  others  laughed  her  to  scorn. 

"  You  may  laugh,"  said  Gerard,  "  but  for  all  that  Ge- 
rard Gerardssoen  of  Tergou  was  the  name  the  herald 
shouted.  I  stood  stupid ;  they  thrust  me  forward.  Ev- 
ery thing  swam  before  my  eyes.  I  don't  know  how  I 
found  myself  kneeling  on  a  cushion  at  the  feet  of  the 
duke.  He  said  something  to  me,  but  I  was  so  fluttered 
I  could  not  answer  him.  So  then  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
side  and  did  not  draw  a  glaive  and  cut  off  my  dull  head, 
but  gave  me  a  gold  medal,  and  there  it  is."  There  was 
a  yell  and  almost  a  scramble.  "  And  then  he  gave  me 
fifteen  great  bright  golden  angels.  I  had  seen  one  be- 
fore, but  I  never  handled  one.  Here  they  are." 

"  Oh,  Gerard  !  oh,  Gerard !" 

ft  There  is  one  for  you,  our  eldest ;  and  one  for  you, 
Sybrandt,  and  for  you,  Little  Mischief;  and  two  for  you, 
Little  Lily,  because  God  has  afflicted  you ;  and  one  for 
myself  to  buy  colors  and  vellum ;  and  nine  for  her  that 
xiursed  us  all,  and  risked  the  two  crowns  upon  poor  Ge- 
rard's hand." 

The  gold  drew  out  their  several  characters.  Cornelis 
and  Sybrandt  clutched  each  his  coin  with  one  glare  of 
greediness  and  another  glare  of  envy  at  Kate,  who  had 
got  two  pieces.  Giles  seized  his  and  rolled  it  along  the 
floor  and  gamboled  after  it.  But  Kate  put  down  her 
crutches  and  sat  down,  and  held  out  her  little  arms  to 
Gerard  with  a  heavenly  gesture  of  love  and  tenderness, 
and  the  mother,  fairly  benumbed  at  first  by  the  shower 
of  gold  that  fell  on  her  apron,  now  cried  out,  "  Leave 
kissing  him,  Kate,  he  is  my  son,  not  yours.  Ah,  Gerard, 
my  child !  I  have  not  loved  you  as  you  deserved." 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  53 

Then  Gerard  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her, 
and  she  flung  her  arms  round  him  and  wept  for  joy  and 
pride,  upon  his  neck. 

"  Good  lad !  good  lad, !"  cried  the  hosier,  with  some 
emotion.  "  I  must  go  and  tell  the  neighbors.  Lend  me 
the  medal,  Gerard,  I'll  show  it  my  good  friend,  Peter 
Buyskens ;  he  is  always  regaling  me  with  how  his  son 
Jorian  won  the  tin  mug  a-shooting  at  the  Butts." 

"  Ay,  do  my  man ;  and  show  Peter  Buyskens  one  of 
the  angels.  Tell  him  there  are  fourteen  more,  where 
that  came  from.  Mind  you  bring  it  me  back !" 

"  Stay  a  minute,  father,  there  is  better  news  behind," 
said  Gerard,  flushing  with  joy  at  the  joy  he  caused. 

"  Better !     Better  than  this  ?" 

Then  Gerard  told  his  interview  with  the  countess,  and 
the  house  rang  with  joy. 

s  "  Now,  God  bless  the  good  lady,  and  bless  the  Dame 
Van  Eyck !  a  benefice,  our  son !  My  cares  are  at  an 
end.  Gerard,  my  good  friend  and  master,  now  we  two 
can  die  happy  whenever  our  time  comes.  This  dear  boy 
will  take  our  place,  and  none  of  these  loved  ones  will 
want  a  home  or  a  friend." 

From  that  hour  Gerard  was  looked  upon  as  the  stay 
of  the  family.  He  was  a  son  apart,  but  in  another  sense. 
He  was  always  in  the  right,  and  nothing  too  good  for 
him.  Cornells  and  Sybrandt  became  more  and  more 
jealous  of  him,  and  longed  for  the  day  he  should  go  to 
his  benefice :  they  would  get  rid  of  the  favorite,  and  his 
reverence's  purse  would  be  open  to  them.  With  these 
views  he  co-operated.  The  wound  love  had  given  him 
throbbed  duller  and  duller.  His  success  and  the  affec- 
tion and  admiration  of  his  parents,  made  him  think  more 
highly  of  himself,  and  resent  with  more  spirit  Margaret's 
ingratitude  and  discourtesy.  For  all  that,  she  had  power 
to  cool  him  toward  the  rest  of  her  sex,  and  now  for  every 
reason  he  wished  to  be  ordained  priest  as  soon  as  he 
could  pass  the  intermediate  orders.  He  knew  the  Vul- 


54  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

gate  already  better  than  most  of  the  clergy,  and  he 
studied  the  rubric  and  the  dogmas  of  the  church  with 
his  friends  the  monks ;  and,  the  first  time  the  bishop 
came  that  way,  he  applied  to  be  admitted  "  exorcist," 
the  third  step  in  holy  orders.  The  bishop  questioned 
him,  and  ordained  him  at  once.  He  had  to  kneel,  and, 
after  a  short  prayer,  the  bishop  delivered  to  him  a  little 
MS.  full  of  exorcisms,  and  said :  "  Take  this,  Gerard,  and 
have  power  to  lay  hands  on  the  possessed,  whether  bap- 
tized or  catechumens!"  and  he  took  it  reverently,  and 
went  home  invested  by  the  church  with  power  to  cast 
out  demons. 

Returning  home  from  the  church,  he  was  met  by  little 
Kate  on  her  crutches. 

"  Oh,  Gerard !  who,  think  you,  has  been  at  our  house 
seeking  you  ?  the  Burgomaster  himself." 

Gerard  started,  and  changed  color. 

"Ghysbreeht  Van  Swieten?  What  would  he  with 
me?" 

"Nay,  Gerard,  I  know  not.  But  he  was  urgent  to 
see  you.  You  are  to  go  to  his  house  on  the  instant." 

"  Well,  he  is  the  Burgomaster :  I  must  go :  but  it 
likes  me  not.  Kate,  I  have  seen  him  cast  such  a  look  on 
me  as  no  friend  casts.  No  matter ;  such  looks  forewarn 
the  wise.  Besides,  he  knows — " 

"  Knows  what,  Gerard  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Nothing  ?" 

"  Kate,  I'll  go." 

And  he  went  to  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten's  house. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GHYSBKECHT  VAN  SWIETEN  was  an  artful  man.  He 
opened  on  the  novice  with  something  quite  wide  of  the 
mark  he  was  really  aiming  at.  "  The  town  records," 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  55 

said  he,  "  are  crabbedly  written,  and  the  ink  rusty  with 
age."  He  offered  Gerard  the  honor  of  transcribing  them 
fair. 

Gerard  inquired  what  he  was  to  be  paid. 

Ghysbrecht  offered  a  sum  that  would  have  just  pur- 
chased the  pens,  ink,  and  parchment. 

"  But,  Burgomaster,  my  labor  ?  Here  is  a  year's 
work." 

"Your  labor!  Call  you  marking  parchment  labor? 
Little  sweat  goes  to  that,  I  trow." 

"'Tis  labor,  and  skilled  labor  to  boot:  and  that  is 
better  paid  in  all  crafts  than  rude  labor,  sweat  or  no 
sweat.  Besides,  there's  my  time." 

"  Your  time  ?  Why  what  is  time  to  you,  at  two-and- 
twenty?"  Then  fixing  his  eyes  keenly  on  Gerard,  to 
mark  the  effect  of  his  words,  he  said :  "  Say,  rather,  you 
are  idle  grown.  You  are  in  love.  Your  body  is  with 
those  chanting  monks,  but  your  heart  is  with  Peter 
Brandt  and  his  red-haired  girl." 

"  I  know  no  Peter  Brandt." 

This  denial  confirmed  Ghysbrecht's  suspicion  that  the 
caster  out  of  demons  was  playing  a  deep  game. 

"  Ye  lie !"  he  shouted.  "  Did  I  not  find  you  at  her 
elbow,  on  the  road  to  Rotterdam  ?" 

"Ah!" 

"  Ah.  And  you  were  seen  at  Sevenbergen  but  t'other 
day." 

"Was  I?" 

"  Ay ;  and  at  Peter's  house." 

"At  Sevenbergen?" 

"  Ay,  at  Sevenbergen." 

Now,  this  was  what  in  modern  days  is  called  a  draw. 
It  was  a  guess,  put  boldly  forth  as  fact,  to  elicit  by  the 
young  man's  answer  whether  he  had  been  there  lately  or 
not. 

The  result  of  the  artifice  surprised  the  crafty  one. 
Gerard  started  up  in  a  strange  state  of  nervous  excite- 
ment. 


56  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Burgomaster,"  said  he,  with  trembUng  voice,  "  I  have 
not  been  at  Sevenbergen  this  three  years,  and  I  know 
not  the  name  of  those  you  saw  me  with,  nor  where  they 
dwelt ;  but,  as  my  time  is  precious,  though  you  value  it 
not,  give  you  good-day."  And  he  darted  out,  with  his 
eyes  sparkling. 

Ghysbrecht  started  up  in  huge  ire ;  but  he  sank  into 
his  chair  again. 

"  He  fears  me  not.    He  knows  something,  if  not  all." 

Then  he  called  hastily  to  his  trusty  servant,  and  almost 
dragged  him  to  a  window. 

"  See  you  yon  man  ?"  he  cried.  "  Haste  !  Follow 
him  !  But  let  him  not  see  you.  He  is  young,  but  old 
hi  craft.  Keep  him  in  sight  all  day.  Let  me  know 
whither  he  goes,  and  what  he  does." 

It  was  night  when  the  servant  returned. 
"  "Well !  well !"  cried  Van  Swieten,  eagerly. 
**  Master,  the  young  man  went  from  you  to  Sevenber- 
gen." 

Ghysbrecht  groaned. 

"  To  the  house  of  Peter  the  Magician." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  LOOK  into  your  own  heart  and  write !"  said  Herr 
Cant;  and  earth's  cuckoos  echoed  the  cry.  Look  into 
the  Rhine  where  it  is  deepest,  and  the  Thames  where  it 
is  thickest,  and  paint  the  bottom.  Lower  a  bucket  into 
a  well  of  self-deception,  and  what  comes  up  must  be  im- 
mortal truth,  musn't  it  ?  Now,  in  the  first  place  no  son 
of  Adam  ever  reads  his  own  heart  at  all,  except  by  the 
habit  acquired  and  the  light  gamed  from  some  years' 
perusal  of  other  hearts ;  and  even  then,  with  his  acquired 
sagacity  and  reflected  light,  he  can  but  spell  and  decipher 
his  own  heart,  not  read  it  fluently.  Gerard  was  so  young 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  59 

and  green  that  he  needed  no  philosopherling  to  lead  him 
into  shallow  water.  Half  way  to  Sevenbergen  he  looked 
into  his  own  heart,  and  asked  it  why  he  was  going  to 
Sevenbergen.  His  heart  replied  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  We  are  going  out  of  mere  curiosity,  to  know 
why  she  jilted  us,  and  to  show  her  it  has  not  broken  our 
hearts,  and  that  we  are  quite  content  with  our  honors 
and  our  benefice  in  prospectu,  and  don't  want  her  or  any 
of  her  fickle  sex. 

He  soon  found  out  Peter  Brandt's  cottage ;  and  there 
sat  a  girl  in  the  doorway,  plying  her  needle,  and  a  stal- 
wart figure  leaned  on  a  long  bow  and  talked  to  her. 
Gerard  felt  an  unaccountable  pang  at  the  sight  of  him. 
However,  the  man  turned  out  to  be  past  fifty  years  of 
age,  an  old  soldier,  whom  Gerard  remembered  to  have 
seen  shoot  at  the  butts  with  admirable  force  and  skill. 
Another  minute  and  the  youth  stood  before  them.  Mar- 
garet looked  up  and  dropped  her  work,  and  uttered  a 
faint  cry,  and  was  white  and  red  by  turns.  But  these 
signs  of  emotion  were  swiftly  dismissed,  and  she  turned 
far  more  chill  and  indifferent  than  she  would  if  she  had 
not  betrayed  this  agitation. 

"  What !  is  it  you,  Master  Gerard  ?  What  on  earth 
brings  you  here,  I  wonder." 

"  I  was  passing  by  and  saw  you ;  so  I  thought  I  would 
give  you  good-day,  and  ask  after  your  father." 

"  My  father  is  well.     He  will  be  here  anon." 

"  Then  I  may  as  well  stay  till  he  comes." 

"  As  you  will.  Good  Martin,  step  into  the  village  and 
tell  my  father  here  is  a  friend  of  his." 

"  And  not  of  yours  ?" 

"  My  father's  friends  are  mine." 

"  That  is  doubtful.  It  was  not  like  a  friend  to  promise 
to  wait  for  me,  and  then  make  off  the  moment  my  back 
was  turned.  Cruel  Margaret!  you  little  know  how  I 
searched  the  town  for  you — how  for  want  of  you  nothing 
was  pleasant  to  me." 


GO  A    UOOL>    FIOrHT. 

"  These  are  idle  words ;  if  you  bad  desired  my  father's 
company,  or  mine,  you  would  have  come  back.  There  I 
had  a  bed  laid  for  you,  sir,  at  my  cousin's,  and  he  would 
have  made  much  of  you,  and,  who  knows,  I  might  have 
made  much  of  you  too.  I  was  in  the  humor  that  day. 
You  will  not  catch  me  in  the  same  mind  again,  neither 
you  nor  any  young  man,  I  warrant  me." 

"  Margaret,  I  came  back  the  moment  the  countess  let 
me  go ;  but  you  were  not  there." 

"  Nay,  you  did  not,  or  you  had  seen  Hans  Cloterman 
at  our  table ;  we  left  him  to  bring  you  on." 

"  I  saw  no  one  there,  but  only  a  drunken  man  that  had 
just  tumbled  down." 

"At  our  table?     How  was  he  clad?" 

"  Nay,  I  took  little  heed :  in  sad-colored  garb." 

At  this  Margaret's  face  gradually  lighted  with  a  mix- 
ture of  archness  and  happiness ;  then  assuming  incre- 
dulity and  severity,  she  put  many  shrewd  questions,  all 
of  which  Gerard  answered  most  loyally.  Finally  the 
clouds  cleared,  and  they  guessed  how  the  misunderstand- 
ing had  come  about.  Then  came  a  revulsion  of  tender- 
ness, all  the  more  powerful  that  they  had  done  each  other 
wrong ;  and  then,  more  dangerous  still,  came  mutual 
confessions.  Neither  had  been  happy  since ;  neither  ever 
would  have  been  happy  but  for  this  fortunate  meeting. 

And  Gerard  found  a  MS.  Vulgate  lying  open  on  the 
table,  and  pounced  upon  it  like  a  hawk.  MSS.  were  his 
delight ;  but  before  he  could  get  to  it  two  white  hands 
quickly  came  flat  upon  the  page,  and  a  red  face  confront- 
ed him. 

"  Nay,  take  away  your  hands,  Margaret,  that  I  may 
see  where  you  are  reading,  and  I  will  read  there  too  at 
home ;  so  shall  my  soul  meet  yours  in  the  sacred  page. 
You  will  not?  Nay,  then,  I  must  kiss  them  away." 
And  he  kissed  them  so  often,  that  for  very  shame  they 
were  fain  to  withdraw,  and,  lo !  the  sacred  book  proved 
to  be  open  at 


A    UOOD    FIGHT.  61 

An  apple  of  gold  in  a  net-work  of  silver. 
"  There,  now,"  said  she,  "  I  had  been  hunting  for  it 
ever  so  long,  and  found  it  but  even  now — and  to  be 
caught !"  and  with  a  touch  of  inconsistency  she  pointed 
it  out  to  Gerard  with  her  white  finger. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "but  to-day  it  is  all  hidden  in  that 
great  cap." 

"  It  is  a  comely  cap,  I'm  told  by  some." 
"  May  be :  but  what  it  hides  is  beautiful." 
"  It  is  not :  it  is  hideous." 
"  Well,  it  was  beautiful  at  Rotterdam." 
"Ay,  every  thing  was  beautiful  that  day." 
And  now  Peter  came  in  and  welcomed  Gerard  cordi- 
ally, and  would  have  him  to  stay  supper.     And  Margaret 
disappeared;  and  Gerard  had  a  nice  learned  chat  with 
Peter;  and  Margaret  reappeared  with  her  hair  in  her 
silver  net,  and  shot  a  glance  half  arch  half  coy,  and  she 
glided  about  them,  and  spread  supper,  and  beamed  bright 
with  gayety  and  happiness.     And  in  the  cool  evening 
Gerard  coaxed  her  out,  and  coaxed  her  on  to  the  road  to 
Tergou,  and  there  they  strolled  up  and  down,  hand  in 
hand ;  and  when  he  must  go  they  pledged  each  other 
never  to  quarrel  or  misunderstand  one  another  again ; 
and  they  sealed  the  promise  with  a  long  loving  kiss,  and 
Gerard  went  home  on  wings. 

From  that  day  Gerard  spent  most  of  his  evenings  with 
Margaret,  and  the  attachment  deepened  and  deepened  on 
both  sides  till  the  hours  they  spent  together  were  the 
hours  they  lived ;  the  rest  they  counted  and  underwent. 
And  at  the  outset  of  this  deep  attachment  all  went 
smoothly ;  obstacles  there  were,  but  they  seemed  distant 
and  small  to  the  eyes  of  hope,  youth,  and  love.  The  feel- 
ings and  passions  of  so  many  persons,  that  this  attach- 
ment would  thwart,  gave  no  warning  smoke  to  show  their 
volcanic  nature  and  power.  The  course  of  true  love  ran 
smoothly,  placidly,  until  it  had  drawn  these  two  young 
hearts  into  its  current  forever,  and  then — 


62  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

bright  morning  unwonted  velvet  shone,  unwont- 
ed feathers  waved,  and  horses'  hoofs  glinted  and  rang 
through  the  streets  of  Tergou,  and  the  windows  and 
balconies  were  studded  with  wondering  faces.  The 
French  embassador  was  riding  through  to  sport  in  the 
neighboring  forest. 

Besides  his  own  suite  he  was  attended  by  several  serv- 
ants of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  lent  to  do  him  honor  and 
minister  to  his  pleasure.  The  duke's  tumbler  rode  before 
him  with  a  grave,  sedate  majesty  that  made  his  more  no- 
ble companions  seem  light,  frivolous  persons.  But  ever 
and  anon,  when  respect  and  awe  neared  the  oppressive, 
he  rolled  off  his  horse  so  ignobly  and  funnily  that  even 
the  embassador  was  fain  to  burst  out  laughing.  He  also 
climbed  up  again  by  the  tail  in  a  way  provocative  of 
mirth,_and  so  he  played  his  part.  Toward  the  tail  of  the 
pageant  rode  one  that  excited  more  attention  still — the 
duke's  leopard.  A  huntsman  mounted  on  a  Flemish  horse 
of  prodigious  size  and  power  carried  a  long  box  fastened 
to  the  rider's  loins  by  straps  curiously  contrived,  and  on 
this  box  sat  a  huge  leopard  crouching.  She  was  chained 
to  the  huntsman.  The  people  admired  her  glossy  hide 
and  spots,  and  pressed  near,  and  one  or  two  were  for 
feeling  her  and  pulling  her  tail ;  then  the  huntsman  shout- 
ed hi  a  terrible  voice,  "  Beware !  At  Antwerp  one  did 
but  throw  a  handful  of  dust  at  her,  and  the  duke  made 
dust  of  him." 

"  Gramercy !" 

"  I  speak  sooth.  The  good  duke  shut  him  up  in  prison, 
in  a  cell  under  ground,  and  the  rats  cleaned  the  flesh  off 
his  bones  in  a  night.  Served  him  right  for  molesting 
the  poor  thing."  There  was  a  murmur  of  fear,  and  tho 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  03 

Tergovians  shrank  from  tickling  the  leopard  of  their 
sovereign. 

But  an  incident  followed  that  raised  their  spirits  again. 
The  duke's  giant,  a  Hungarian  seven  feet  four  inches 
high,  brought  up  the  rear.  This  enormous  creature  had, 
like  some  other  giants,  a  treble  fluty  voice  of  little  power. 
He  was  a  vain  fellow,  and  not  conscious  of  this  or  any 
defect.  Now  it  happened  he  caught  sight  of  Giles  sitting 
on  the  top  of  the  balcony ;  so  he  stopped  and  began  to 
make  fun  of  him. 

"  Halloo !  brother !"  squeaked  he,  "  I  had  nearly  pass- 
ed without  seeing  thee." 

"  You  are  plain  enough  to  see,"  bellowed  Giles,  in  his 
bass  tones. 

"  Come  on  my  shoulder,  brother,"  squeaked  Titan,  and 
held  out  a  shoulder-of-mutton  fist  to  help  him  down. 

"  If  I  do  I'll  cuff  your  ears,"  roared  the  dwarf. 

The  giant  saw  the  homuncule  was  irascible,  and  play- 
ed upon  him,  being  encouraged  thereto  by  the  shouts  of 
laughter.  He  did  not  see  that  the  people  were  laughing 
not  at  his  wit,  but  at  the  ridiculous  incongruity  of  the 
two  voices — the  gigantic  feeble  fife,  and  the  petty,  deep, 
loud  drum,  the  mountain  delivered  of  a  squeak  and  the 
mole-hill  belching  thunder. 

The  singular  duet  came  to  as  singular  an  end.  Giles 
lost  all  patience  and  self-command,  and  being  a  creature 
devoid  of  fear,  and  La  a  rage  to  boot,  he  actually  dropped 
upon  the  giant's  neck,  seized  his  hair  with  one  hand,  and 
punched  his  head  with  the  other.  The  giant's  first  im- 
pulse was  to  laugh,  but  the  weight  and  rapidity  of  the 
blows  speedily  corrected  that  inclination. 

"He!  he!  Ah!  ha!  halloo!  oh!  ho!  Holy  saints! 
here !  help !  or  I  must  throttle  the  imp !  I  can't !  O  Lord ! 
I'll  split  your  skull  against  the — "  and  he  made  a  wild 
run  backward  at  the  balcony.  Giles  saw  his  danger, 
seized  the  balcony  in  time  with  both  hands,  and  whipped 
over  it  just  as  the  giant's  head  came  against  it  with  a 


64  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

stunning  crack.  The  people  roared  with  laughter  and 
exultation  at  the  address  of  their  little  champion.  The 
indignant  giant  seized  two  of  the  laughers,  knocked  them 
together  like  dumb-bells,  shook  them,  and  strewed  them 
flat  (Catherine  shrieked,  and  threw  her  apron  over  Giles), 
then  strode  wrathfully  away  after  the  party.  This  inci- 
dent had  consequences  no  one  then  present  foresaw:  it 
made  Mr.  Giles  a  companion  of  princes.  Its  immediate 
results  were  agreeable.  The  Tergovians  turned  proud 
of  him,  and  after  this  listened  with  more  affability  to  his 
prayers  for  parchment.  For  Giles  drove  a  regular  trade 
with  his  brother  Gerard  hi  this  article.  That  is  to  say, 
he  went  about  and  begged  it  gratis,  and  Gerard  gave 
him  coppers  for  it. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  Catherine  and  her 
daughter  were  chatting  together  about  their  favorite 
theme  —  Gerard,  his  goodness,  his  benefice,  and  the 
brightened  prospects  of  the  whole  family. 

Their  good  luck  had  come  to  them  in  the  very  shape 
they  would  have  chosen ;  besides  the  advantages  of  a 
benefice  such  as  the  Countess  Charolois  would  not  dis- 
dain to  give,  there  was  the  feminine  delight  at  having  a 
priest,  a  holy  man,  in  their  own  family.  He  will  marry 
Cornells,  and  Sybrandt :  for  they  can  marry  (good  house- 
wives), now,  if  they  will :  "  Gerard  will  take  care  of  you 
and  Giles  when  we  are  gone.  Yes,  mother,  and  we  can 
confess  to  him  instead  of  to  a  stranger,"  said  Kate. 

"  Ay,  girl !  and  he  can  give  the  sacred  oil  to  your  father 
and  me,  and  close  our  eyes,  when  our  time  comes." 

"  Oh,  mother !  not  for  many,  many  years,  I  do  pray 
Heaven.  Pray  don't  speak  of  that ;  it  always  makes  me 
sad.  I  hope  I  shall  go  before  you,  mother  dear.  No ! 
let  us  be  gay  to-day.  I  am  out  of  pain,  mother — quite 
out  of  all  pain ;  it  does  seem  so  strange ;  and  I  feel  so 
bright  and  happy,  that —  Mother,  can  you  keep  a  se- 
cret?" 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  65 

"  Nobody  better,  child.     Why,  you  know  I  can." 

"  Then  I  will  show  you  something  so  beautiful.  You 
never  saw  the  like  I  trow.  Only  Gerard  must  never 
know ;  for  I  am  sure  he  means  to  surprise  us  with  it,  he 
covers  it  up  so,  and  sometimes  he  carries  it  away  alto- 
gether." 

Kate  took  her  crutches  and  moved  slowly  away,  leav- 
ing her  mother  in  an  exalted  state  of  curiosity.  She  soon 
returned  with  something  in  a  cloth,  uncovered  it,  and 
there  was  a  lovely  picture  of  the  Virgin,  with  all  her  in- 
signia, and  wearing  her  tiara  over  a  wealth  of  beautiful 
hair,  which  flowed  loose  over  her  shoulders.  Catherine, 
at  first,  was  struck  with  awe. 

"It  is  herself!"  she  cried ;  "  it  is  the  Queen  of  Heaven! 
I  never  saw  one  like  her  to  my  mind  before." 

"  And  her  eyes,  mother !  lifted  to  heaven,  as  if  they 
belonged  there,  and  not  to  a  mortal  creature.  And  her 
beautiful  hair  of  burning  gold !" 

"And  to  think  I  have  a  son  that  can  make  the  saints 
live  again  upon  a  piece  of  wood !" 

"The  reason  is,  he  is  a  young  saint  himself,  mother. 
He  is  too  good  for  this  world ;  he  is  here  to  portray  the 
blessed,  and  then  to  go  away  and  be  with  them  forever." 

Ere  they  had  half  done  admiring  it  a  strange  voice  was 
heard  at  the  door.  By  one  of  the  furtive  instincts  of 
their  sex  they  hastily  hid  the  picture  in  the  cloth,  though 
there  was  no  need.  And  the  next  moment  in  came,  cast- 
ing his  eyes  furtively  around,  a  man  that  had  not  entered 
the  house  this  ten  years — Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten. 

The  two  women  were  so  taken  by  surprise  that  they 
merely  stared  at  him  and  at  one  another,  and  said,  "The 
Burgomaster !"  in  a  tone  so  expressive  that  Ghysbrecht 
felt  compelled  to  answer  it. 

"  Yes !  I  own  the  last  tune  I  came  here  was  not  on  a 
friendly  errand.  Men  love  their  own  interest — Gerard's 
and  mine  were  contrary.  Well !  let  this  visit  atone  the 
last.  To-day  I  come  on  your  business,  and  none  of  mine." 


66  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

Catherine  and  her  daughter  exchanged  a  swift  glance  of 
contemptuous  incredulity.  They  knew  the  man  better 
than  he  thought.  "  It  is  about  your  son  Gerard." 

"Ay!  ay!  you  want  him  to  work  for  the  town — for 
nothing.  He  told  us." 

"  I  come  on  no  such  errand.  It  is  to  let  you  know  he 
has  fallen  into  bad  hands." 

"  Now  Heaven  and  the  saints  forbid !  Man,  torture 
not  a  mother !  Speak  out,  and  quickly :  speak  ere  you 
have  time  to  coin  falsehood :  we  know  you." 

Ghysbrecht  turned  pale  at  this  affront,  and  spite  min- 
gled with  the  other  motives  that  brought  him  here. 

"Thus  it  is,  then,"  said  he,  grinding  his  teeth,  and 
speaking  very  fast.  "  Your  son  Gerard  is  more  like  to 
be  a  father  of  a  family  than  a  priest :  he  is  forever  with 
Margaret,  Peter  Brandt's  red-haired  girl,  and  loves  her 
like  a  cow  her  calf." 

Mother  and  daughter  both  burst  out  laughing.  Ghys- 
brecht stared  at  them. 

"What,  you  knew  it?" 

"  Carry  this  tale  to  those  who  know  not  my  son  Gerard. 
Women  are  naught  to  him." 

"  Other  women,  mayhap.  But  this  one  is  the  apple 
of  his  eye  to  him,  or  will  be,  if  you  part  them  not,  and 
soon.  Come,  dame,  don't  make  me  waste  time  and 
friendly  counsel :  my  servant  has  seen  them  together  a 
score  times,  handed,  and  reading  babies  in  one  another's 
eyes  like — you  know,  dame — you  have  been  young  too." 

"  Kate,  I  am  ill  at  ease.  Yes,  I  have  been  young,  and 
know  how  blind  and  foolish  the  young  are.  My  heart ! 
He  has  turned  me  sick  in  a  moment.  Oh,  Kate,  if  it 
should  be  true !" 

"  No,  no !"  cried  Kate,  eagerly.  "  Gerard  might  love 
a  young  woman :  all  young  men  do :  I  can't  think  what 
they  see  in  them  to  love  so :  but  if  he  did  he  would  let 
us  know :  he  would  not  deceive  us.  You  wicked  man, 
you  will  kill  my  mother.  No,  dear  mother,  don't  look 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  67 

so !  Gerard  is  too  good  to  love  a  creature  of  earth.  His 
Jove  is  for  Our  Lady  and  the  saints.  Ah !  I  will  show 
you  the  pict —  There :  if  his  heart  was  earthly  could  he 
paint  the  Queen  of  Heaven  like  that  ? — look !  look !"  and 
she  held  the  picture  out  triumphantly,  and  more  radiant 
and  beautiful  in  this  moment  of  enthusiasm  than  ever 
dead  picture  was  or  will  be,  overpowered  the  Burgo- 
master with  her  eloquence  and  her  feminine  proof  of 
Gerard's  purity.  His  eyes  and  mouth  opened,  and  re- 
mained open :  in  which  state  they  kept  turning,  face  and 
all,  as  if  on  a  pivot,  from  the  picture  to  the  women,  and 
from  the  women  to  the  picture. 

"  Why,  it  is  herself!"  he  gasped. 

"  Isn't  it  ?"  cried  Kate,  and  her  hostility  was  softened. 
"  You  admire  it  ?  I  forgive  you  for  frightening  us." 

"  Am  I  in  a  mad-house  ?"  said  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten, 
thoroughly  puzzled.  "  You  show  me  a  picture  of  the 
girl,  and  you  say  he  painted  it ;  and  that  is  a  proof  he 
can  not  love  her!  Why,  they  all  paint  their  sweet- 
hearts, painters  do." 

"A  picture  of  the  girl?"  exclaimed  Kate,  shocked. 
"  Fie !  this  is  not  a  girl ;  this  is  the  Virgin  Mary." 

"  No ;  no,  it  is  Margaret  Brandt." 

"  Oh,  blind !     It  is  the  Queen  of  Heaven." 

"  No ;  only  of  Sevenbergen  village." 

"  Profane  man !  behold  her  crown !" 

"  Silly  child !  look  at  her  red  hair !  Would  the  Virgin 
be  seen  in  red  hair  ?  She  who  had  the  pick  of  all  the 
colors  ten  thousand  years  before  the  world  began  ?" 

At  this  moment  an  anxious  face  was  insinuated  round 
the  edge  of  the  open  door :  it  was  their  neighbor  Peter 
Buysken. 

"What  is  to  do?"  said  he,  in  a  cautious  whisper. 
"  We  can  hear  you  all  across  the  street.  What  on  earth 
is  to  do?" 

"  Oh,  neighbor !  What  is  to  do  ?  Why,  here  is  the 
Burgomaster  blackening  my  Gerard." 


68  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Stop !"  cried  Van  Swieten.  "  Peter  Buysken  is  come 
in  the  nick  of  time.  He  knows  father  and  daughter  both ; 
they  cured  him  of  the  colic.  Here,  Peter,  who  is  that  ? 
Now  be  silent,  women,  for  one  moment,  if  you  can.  Who 
is  that?" 

Peter  gave  a  start.     "  Well,  to  be  sure !"  was  all  his 

reply. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  repeated  Ghysbrecht,  impetuously. 

Peter  Buysken  smiled.  "  Why,  you  know  as  well  as  I 
do.  But  what  have  they  put  a  crown  on  her  for?  I 
never  saw  her  in  a  crown,  for  my  part." 

"  Man  alive !  Can't  you  open  your  great  jaws  and  just 
speak  a  wench's  name,  to  oblige  three  people  ?" 

"  I'd  do  a  great  deal  more  to  oblige  one  of  you  than 
that,  Burgomaster.  If  it  isn't  as  natural  as  life !" 

"  Curge  the  man !  he  won't,  he  won't — curse  him !" 

"  Why,  what  have  I  done  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  sir !"  said  little  Kate,  "  for  pity's  sake  tell  us ;  are 
these  the  features  of  one  Margaret  Brandt  ?" 

"  A  mirror  is  not  truer,  my  little  maid." 

"  But  is  it  she,  sir,  for  very  certain  ?" 

"  Why,  don't  I  tell  you  it  is  ?" 

"  Now,  why  couldn't  you  say  so  at  once  ?"  snarled 
Ghysbrecht. 

"  I  did  say  so  as  plain  as  I  could  speak,"  snapped  Peter ; 
and  they  growled  over  this  small  bone  of  contention  so 
zealously  that  they  did  not  see  Catherine  and  her  daughter 
had  thrown  their  aprons  over  their  heads,  and  were  rock- 
ing to  and  fro  in  deep  distress.  The  next  moment  Gerard 
senior  came  in,  and  stood  aghast.  Catherine,  though  her 
face  was  covered,  knew  his  footstep  directly. 

"  That  is  my  poor  man,"  she  sobbed.  "  Tell  him,  good 
Peter  Buysken,  for  I  have  not  the  courage  to." 

Gerard  turned  pale.  The  presence  of  the  Burgo- 
master in  his  house,  after  so  many  years  of  coolness, 
coupled  with  his  wife's  and  daughter's  distress,  made 
him  fear  some  heavy  misfortune. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  69 

"  Richart !  Jacob !"  he  gasped. 

"  No !  no !"  said  the  Burgomaster ;  "  it  is  nearer  home, 
and  nobody  is  dead  or  dying,  old  friejid." 

"God  bless  you,  Burgomaster!  Ah!  something  is 
gone  off  my  breast  that  was  like  to  choke  me.  Now, 
what  is  the  matter  ?" 

Ghysbrecht  then  told  him  ah1  that  he  told  the  women, 
and  showed  the  picture  in  evidence. 

"Is  that  all!"  said  Gerard.  "What  are  ye  roaring 
and  bellowing  for  ?  It  is  vexing,  it  is  angering,  but  it  is 
not  like  death  nor  even  sickness.  Boys  will  be  boys.  He 
will  outgrow  that  disease :  'tis  but  skin  deep." 

But  when  Ghysbrecht  told  him  that  Margaret  was  a 
girl  of  good  character ;  that  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  she 
would  be  so  intimate  if  marriage  had  not  been-  spoken  of 
between  them,  Gerard's  brow  darkened. 

"Marriage?  that  shall  never  be,"  said  he,  sternly. 
"  I'll  stay  that,  ay,  by  force,  if  need  be,  as  I  would  his 
hand  lifted  to  cut  his  throat.  I'd  do  what  old  John 
Koestein  did  t'other  day." 

"And  what  is  that,  in  Heaven's  name?"  asked  the 
mother,  suddenly  removing  her  apron. 

It  was  the  Burgomaster  who  replied : 

"  He  made  me  shut  young  Albert  Koestein  up  in  the 
prison  of  the  Stadthouse  till  he  knocked  under :  it  was 
not  long.  Forty-eight  hours,  all  alone,  on  bread  and 
water,  cooled  his  hot  stomach.  'Tell  my  father  I  am 
his  humble  servant,'  says  he,  '  and  let  me  into  the  sun 
once  more — the  sun  is  worth  ah1  the  wenches  in  the 
world.'" 

"  Oh  the  cruelty  of  men !"  sighed  Catherine. 

"  As  to  that,  the  Burgomaster  has  no  choice :  it  is  the 
law.  And  if  a  father  says,  '  Burgomaster,  lock  up  my 
son,'  he  must  do  it.  A  fine  thing  it  would  be  if  a  father 
might  not  lock  up  his  own  son." 

"  Well,  well !  it  won't  come  to  that  with  me  and  my 
son.  He  never  disobeyed  me  in  his  life:  he  never  shall. 


70  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

Where  is  he?  It  is  past  supper-time.  Where  is  he, 
Kate  ?" 

"  Alas,  I  know  not,  father." 

"I  know,"  said  Ghysbrecht;  "he  is  at  Sevenbergen. 
My  servant  met  him  on  the  road." 

Supper  passed  in  gloomy  silence.  Evening  descended 
— no  Gerard :  eight  o'clock  came — no  Gerard.  Then  the 
father  sent  all  to  bed  except  Catherine. 

"  You  and  I  will  walk  abroad,  wife,  and  talk  over  this 
new  care." 

"  Abroad,  Gerard,  at  this  time !     Whither  ?" 

"  Why  on  the  road  to  Sevenbergen." 

"Oh  no,  no  hasty  words,  father!  Poor  Gerard!  he 
never  vexed  you  before." 

"  Fear  me  not.  But  it  must  end ;  and  I  am  not  one 
that  trusts  to-morrow  with  to-day's  work." 

The  old  couple  walked  hand  in  hand ;  for,  strange  as  it 
may  appear  to  some  of  my  readers,  the  use  of  the  elbow 
to  couples  walking  was  never  discovered  in  Europe  till 
centuries  after  this.  They  walked  a  long  time  in  silence. 
The  night  was  clear  and  balmy.  Such  nights,  calm  and 
silent,  recall  the  past  from  the  dead. 

"  It  is  a  many  years  since  we  walked  so  late,  my  man," 
said  Catherine,  softly. 

"  Ay,  sweetheart,  more  than  we  shall  see  again.  (Is  he 
never  coming,  I  wonder  ?)" 

"  Not  since  our  courting  days,  Gerard." 

"  No.     Ay,  you  were  a  buxom  lass  then." 

"And  you  were  a  comely  lad,  as  ever  a  girl's  eye  stole 
a  look  at.  I  do  suppose  Gerard  is  with  her  now,  as  you 
used  to  be  with  me.  Nature  is  strong,  and  the  same  in 
all  our  generations." 

"  Nay,  I  hope  he  has  left  her  by  now,  confound  her,  or 
we  shall  be  here  all  night." 

"  Gerard !" 

"Well?" 


A    GOOD   EIGHT.  71 

"  I  have  been  happy  with  you,  sweetheart,  for  all  our 

bs — much  happier,  I  trow,  than  if  I  had — been — a — a — 
nun.  You  won't  speak  harshly  to  the  poor  child?  One 
can  be  firm  without  being  harsh." 

"  Surely." 

"  Have  you  been  happy  with  me,  my  poor  Gerard  ?" 

"  Why,  you  know  I  have.  Friends  I  have  known,  but 
none  like  you.  Buss  me,  wife !" 

"  A  heart  to  share  joy  and  grief  with  is  a  great  com- 
fort to  man  or  woman.  Isn't  it  ?" 

"  It  is  so,  my  lass. 

'It  doth  joy  double, 
And  halveth  trouble,' 

runs  the  by-word.    Ah !  here  comes  the  young  fool." 

Catherine  trembled  and  held  her  husband's  hand  tight. 
The  moon  was  bright,  but  they  were  in  the  shadow  of 
some  trees,  and  their  son  did  not  see  them.  He  came 
singing  hi  the  moonlight,  and  his  face  shining. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHILE  the  burgomaster  was  exposing  Gerard  at  Ter- 
gou,  Margaret  had  a  trouble  of  her  own  at  Sevenbergen. 
It  was  a  housewife's  distress,  but  deeper  than  we  can  well 
conceive.  She  came  to  Martin  Wittenhaagen,  the  old 
soldier,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Martin,  there's  nothing  in  the  house,  and  Gerard 
is  coming,  and  he  is  so  thoughtless.  He  forgets  to  sup 
at  home.  When  he  puts  down  work  then  he  runs  to  me 
straight,  poor  soul :  and  often  he  comes  here  quite  faint. 
And  to  think  I  should  have  nothing  to  set  before  my 
servant  that  loves  me  so  dear." 

Martin  scratched  his  head. 

"What  can  I  do?" 

"  It  is  Thursday ;  it  is  your  day  to  shoot — sooth  to  say, 
I  counted  on  you  to-day." 


72  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  soldier,  "  I  may  not  shoot  when  the 
duke  or  his  friends  are  at  the  chase :  read  else.  I  am  no 
scholar."  And  he  took  out  of  his  pouch  a  parchment 
with  a  grand  seal.  It  purported  to  be  a  stipend  and  a 
license  given  by  Philip  Duke  of  Burgundy  to  M.  W.  one 
of  his  archers,  in  return  for  services  in  the  wars,  and  for 
a  wound  received  at  the  duke's  side.  The  stipend  was 
four  merks  yearly  to  be  paid  by  the  duke's  almoner,  and 
the  license  was  to  shoot  three  arrows  once  a  week,  viz., 
on  Thursday,  and  no  other  day,  in  any  of  the  duke's  for- 
ests in  Holland,  at  any  game  but  a  seven-year-old  buck 
or  a  doe  carrying  fawn,  proviso  that  the  duke  should  not 
be  hunting  on  that  day,  or  any  of  his  friends.  In  this 
case  Martin  was  not  to  go  and  disturb  the  woods  on 
peril  of  his  salary  and  head,  etc. 

Margaret  sighed  and  was  silent. 

"  Come,  cheer  up,  mistress,"  said  he,  "  for  your  sake 
I'll  peril  my  carcass  ;  I  have  done  that  for  many  a  one 
that  was  not  worth  your  fore-finger.  It  is  no  such 
mighty  risk  either.  I'll  but  step  into  the  skirts  of  the 
forest,  here.  It  is  odds  but  they  drive  a  hare  or  a  fawn 
within  reach  of  my  arrow." 

"  Martin,  if  I  let  you  go  you  must  promise  me  not  to 
go  far,  and  not  to  be  seen ;  far  better  Gerard  went  sup- 
perless  than  ill  should  come  to  you,  faithful  Martin." 

The  required  promise  given,  Martin  took  his  bow  and 
three  arrows,  and  stole  cautiously  into  the  wood :  it  was 
scarce  a  furlong  distant.  The  horns  were  heard  faintly 
in  the  distance,  and  all  the  game  was  afoot.  Come, 
thought  Martin,  I  shall  soon  fill  the  pot,  and  no  one  be 
the  wiser.  He  took  his  stand  behind  a  thick  oak  that 
commanded  a  view  of  an  open  glade,  and  strung  his  bow 
— a  truly  formidable  weapon.  It  was  of  English  yew, 
six  feet  two  inches  high,  and  thick  in  proportion :  and 
Martin,  broad  chested,  with  arms  all  iron  and  cord,  and 
used  to  the  bow  from  infancy,  could  draw  a  three-foot 
arrow  to  the  head,  and  when  it  flew,  the  eye  could  scarce 


A    GOO1>   FIGHT.  73 

follow  it,  and  the  bow-string  twanged  as  musical  as  a 
harp.  This  bow  had  laid  many  a  stout  soldier  low  hi  the 
wars  of  the  Hoecks  and  Cabbel-jaws.  In  those  days  a 
battle-field  was  not  a  cloud  of  smoke ;  the  combatants 
were  few  but  the  deaths  many ;  for  they  saw  what  they 
were  about,  and  fewer  bloodless  arrows  flew  than  blood- 
less bullets  now.  This  tremendous  weapon  Martin  now 
leveled  at  a  hare.  She  came  cantering,  then  sat  spright- 
ly, and  her  ears  made  a  capital  V.  The  arrow  flew,  the 
string  twanged :  but  Martin  had  been  in  a  hurry  to  pot 
her,  and  lost  her  by  an  inch :  the  arrow  seemed  to  strike 
her,  but  it  struck  the  ground  close  to  her,  and  passed  un- 
der her  belly  like  a  flash,  and  hissed  along  the  short  grass 
and  disappeared.  She  jumped  three  feet  perpendicular, 
and  away  at  the  top  of  her  speed.  "Bungler!"  said 
Martin.  A  sure  proof  he  was  not  an  habitual  bungler, 
or  he  would  have  blamed  the  hare.  He  had  scarcely 
fitted  another  arrow  to  his  string  when  a  wood-pigeon 
settled  on  the  very  tree  he  stood  under.  Aha !  thought 
he,  you  are  small,  but  dainty.  This  time  he  took  more 
pains ;  drew  his  arrow  carefully,  loosed  it  smoothly,  and 
saw  it,  to  all  appearance,  go  clean  through  the  bird,  carry- 
ing feathers  skyward  like  dust.  Instead  of  falling  at  his 
feet,  the  bird,  whose  breast  was  torn,  not  fairly  pierced, 
fluttered  feebly  away,  and,  by  a  great  effort,  rose  above 
the  trees,  flew  some  fifty  yards,  and  fell  dead  at  last ;  but 
where  he  could  not  see  for  the  thick  foliage. 

"  Luck  is  against  me,"  said  he,  despondently.  But  he 
fitted  another  arrow,  and  eyed  the  glade  keenly.  Pres- 
ently he  heard  a  bustle  behind  him,  and  turned  round 
just  in  tune  to  see  a  noble  buck  cross  the  open,  but  too 
late  to  shoot  at  him.  He  dashed  his  bow  down  with  an 
imprecation.  At  that  moment  a  long,  spotted  animal 
glided  swiftly  across  after  the  deer ;  its  belly  seemed  to 
touch  the  ground  as  it  went.  Martin  took  up  his  bow 
hastily,  he  recognized  the  duke's  leopard.  "  The  hunters 
will  not  be  far  from  her,"  said  he, "  and  I  must  not  be  seen." 

D 


74  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

He  plunged  into  the  wood,  following  the  buck  and 
leopard,  for  that  was  his  way  home.  He  had  not  gone 
far  when  he  heard  an  unusual  sound  ahead  of  him — 
leaves  rustling  violently,  and  the  ground  trampled.  An 
experienced  huntsman,  he  suspected  the  cause,  and  hur- 
ried in  the  direction.  He  found  the  leopard  on  the 
buck's  back,  tearing  him  with  teeth  and  claw,  and  the 
buck  running  in  a  circle  and  bounding  convulsively,  with 
the  blood  pouring  down  his  hide.  Then  Martin  formed 
a  desperate  resolution  to  have  the  venison  for  Margaret. 
He  drew  his  arrow  to  the  head,  and  buried  it  in  the  deer, 
who,  spite  of  the  creature  on  his  back,  bounded  high  into 
the  air,  and  fell  dead.  The  leopard  went  on  tearing  him 
as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Martin  hoped  that  the  creature  would  gorge  itself  with 
blood,  and  then  let  him  take  the  venison.  He  waited 
some  minutes,  then  walked  resolutely  up,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  buck's  leg.  The  leopard  gave  a  frightful 
growl,  and  left  off  sucking  blood.  She  saw  Martin's 
game,  and  was  sulky  and  on  her  guard.  What  was  to 
be  done  ?  Martin  had  heard  that  wild  creatures  can  not 
stand  the  human  eye.  Accordingly  he  stood  erect  and 
fixed  his  on  the  leopard ;  the  leopard  returned  a  savage 
glance,  and  never  took  her  eye  off  Martin.  Then  Martin, 
continuing  to  look  the  beast  down,  soon  obtained  an  ac- 
tual instead  of  a  conventional  result.  The  leopard  flew 
at  his  head  with  a  frightful  yell,  flaming  eyes,  and  jaws 
and  claws  distended.  He  had  but  just  time  to  catch  her 
by  the  throat  before  her  teeth  could  crush  his  face ;  one 
of  her  claws  seized  his  shoulder  and  rent  it,  the  other, 
aimed  at  his  cheek,  would  have  been  more  deadly  still, 
but  Martin  was  old-fashioned,  and  wore  no  hat  but  a 
scapulary  of  the  same  stuff  as  his  jerkin,  and  this  scapu- 
lary  he  had  brought  over  his  head  like  a  hood ;  the  brute's 
claw  caught  in  the  loose  leather.  Martin  kept  her  teeth 
off  his  face  with  some  difficulty,  and  griped  her  throat 
fiercely,  and  she  kept  rending  his  shoulder.  It  was  like 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  75 

blunt  reaping-hooks  grinding  and  tearing.  The  pain  was 
fearful :  but,  instead  of  cowing  the  old  soldier,  it  put 
his  blood  up,  and  he  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage  almost 
as  fierce  as  hers,  and  squeezed  her  neck  with  ifon  force. 
The  two  pair  of  eyes  blazed  at  one  another — and  now 
the  man's  were  almost  as  furious  as  the  brute's.  She 
found  he  was  throttling  her,  and  made  a  wild  attempt  to 
free  herself,  in  which  she  dragged  his  cowl  all  over  his 
face  and  blinded  him,  and  tore  her  claw  out  of  his  shoul- 
der, flesh  and  ah1 :  but  still  he  throttled  her  with  hand 
and  arm  of  iron.  Presently  her  long  tail,  that  was  high 
in  the  air,  went  down,  and  her  body  lost  its  elasticity, 
and  he  held  a  choked  and  powerless  thing :  he  griped  it 
still  till  all  motion  ceased,  then  dashed  it  to  the  earth ; 
then,  panting,  removed  his  cowl :  the  leopard,  lay  still  at 
his  feet  with  tongue  protruding  and  bloody  paw;  and 
for  the  first  time  terror  fell  on  Martin.  "  I  am  a  dead 
man :  I  have  slain  the  duke's  leopard."  He  hastily  seized 
a  few  handfuls  of  leaves  and  threw  them  over  her ;  then 
shouldered  the  buck  and  staggered  away,  leaving  a  trail 
of  blood  all  the  way — his  own  and  the  buck's.  He  burst 
into  Peter's  house  a  horrible  figure,  bleeding  and  blood- 
stained, and  flung  the  deer's  carcass  down. 

"  There,  no  questions,"  said  he,  "  but  broil  me  a  steak 
of  it ;  for  I  am  faint." 

Margaret  did  not  see  he  was  wounded :  she  thought 
the  blood  was  all  from  the  deer. 

She  busied  herself  at  the  fire,  and  the  stout  soldier 
stanched  and  bound  his  own  wound  apart,  and  soon  he 
and  Gerard  and  Margaret  were  supping  royally  on  broil- 
ed venison. 

They  were  very  merry;  and  Gerard,  with  wonderful 
thoughtfulness,  had  brought  a  flask  of  Scheidam,  and  un- 
der its  influence  Martin  revived,  and  told  them  how  the 
venison  was  got,  and  thence  to  the  feats  of  his  youth. 

Their  mirth  was  suddenly  interrupted.  Margaret's 
eye  became  fixed  and  fascinated,  and  her  cheek  pale  with 


76  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

fear.  She  gasped,  and  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to 
the  window  with  trembling  finger.  Their  eyes  followed 
hers,  and  there  in  the  twilight  crouched  a  dark  form  with 
eyes  like  glow-worms. 

It  was  the  leopard ! 

While  they  stood  petrified,  fascinated  by  the  eyes  of 
green  fire,  there  sounded  in  the  wood  a  single  deep  bay. 
It  was  the  bay  of  a  blood-hound.  Martin  trembled  at  it. 

"They  have  lost  her,  and  laid  muzzled  blood-hounds 
on  her  scent.  They  will  find  her  here,  and  the  venison. 
Good-by,  friends,  Martin  Wittenhaagen  ends  here." 

Gerard  seized  his  bow,  and  put  it  into  the  soldier's 
hands. 

"  Be  a  man,"  he  cried,  "  shoot  her,  and  fling  her  into 
the  wood  ere  they  come  up.  Who  will  know  ?" 

More  voices  of  hounds  broke  out,  and  nearer. 

"  Curse  her !"  cried  Martin.  "  I  spared  her  once ;  now 
she  must  die,  or  I,  or  both  more  likely ;"  and  he  reared 
his  bow  and  drew  his  arrow  to  the  head. 

"  No !  no !"  cried  Margaret,  and  seized  the  arrow ;  it 
broke  in  half;  the  pieces  fell  on  each  side  the  bow.  The 
air  at  the  same  time  filled  with  the  tongues  of  the 
hounds ;  they  were  hot  upon  the  scent. 

"  What  have  you  done,  wench  ?  Yoxi  have  put  the 
halter  round  my  throat." 

"No!"  cried  Margaret.  "I  have  saved  you.  Stand 
back  from  the  window  both.  Your  knife,  quick !" 

She  seized  his  long  pointed  knife,  almost  tore  it  out  of 
his  girdle,  and  darted  from  the  room.  The  house  was 
now  surrounded  with  baying  dogs  and  shouting  men. 

The  glow-worm  eyes  moved  not. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  79 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MAKGARET  cut  off  a  huge  piece  of  venison,  and  ran  to 
the  window,  and  threw  it  to  the  green  eyes  of  fire.  They 
darted  on  it  with  a  savage  snarl :  and  there  was  a  sound 
of  rending  and  crunching:  at  this  moment  the  hound 
uttered  a  bay  so  near  and  loud  it  rang  through  the 
house,  and  the  three  at  the  window  shrank  together. 
Then  the  leopard  feared  for  her  supper,  and  glided  swift- 
ly and  stealthily  away  with  it  toward  the  woods,  and  the 
very  next  moment  horses  and  men  and  dogs  came  helter- 
skelter  past  the  window,  and  followed  her  full  cry. 
Martin  and  his  companions  breathed  again ;  the  leopard 
was  swift,  and  would  not  be  caught  within  a  league  of 
their  house. 

To  table  once  more,  and  Gerard  drank  to  woman's 
wit :  "  "Tis  stronger  than  man's  force,"  said  he. 

"Ay,"  said  Margaret,  "when  those  she  loves  are  in 
danger ;  not  else." 

To-night  Gerard  staid  with  her  longer  than  usual,  and 
went  home  prouder  than  ever  of  her,  and  happy  as  a 
prince.  Some  little  distance  from  home,  under  the  shad- 
ow of  some  trees,  he  encountered  two  figures ;  they  al- 
most barred  his  way. 

It  was  his  father  and  mother. 

A  cold  chill  fell  on  him. 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  them ;  they  stood  grim  and 
silent.  He  stammered  out  some  words  of  inquiry : 

"  What  brought  them  out  so  late  ?" 

"Why  ask?"  said  his  father;  "you  can  guess  why 
we  are  here." 

"  Oh,  Gerard !"  said  his  mother,  with  a  voice  full  of 
reproach  and  yet  of  affection. 

Gerard's  heart  quaked :  he  was  silent. 


80  A    GOOD   FIGHT,         ( 

Then  his  father  pitied  his  confusion,  and  said  to  him : 

"  Nay,  you  need  not  to  hang  your  head.  You  are  not 
the  first  young  fool  that  has  been  caught  by  a  red  cheek 
and  a  pair  of  blue  eyes." 

"  No,  no !"  put  in  Catherine ;  "  it  was  witchcraft. 
Peter  the  Magician  is  well  known  for  that." 

"  Come,  Sir  Priest,"  resumed  his  father,  "  you  know 
you  must  not  meddle  .with  women  folk.  But  give  us 
your  promise  to  go  no  more  to  Sevenbergen,  and  here 
all  ends ;  we  won't  be  hard  on  you  for  one  fault." 

"  I  can't  promise  that,  father." 

"  Not  promise  it,  you  young  hypocrite  ?" 

"  Nay,  father,  call  me  not  so.  I  lacked  courage  to  tell 
you  what  I  knew  would  vex  you ;  and  right  grateful  am 
I  to  that  good  friend,  whoever  he  be,  that  has  let  you 
know.  'Tis  a  load  off  my  mind.  Yes,  father,  I  love 
Margaret ;  and  call  me  not  a  priest,  for  a  priest  I  will 
never  be.  I  will  die  sooner." 

"  That  we  shall  see,  young  man.  Come,  gainsay  me 
no  more ;  you  will  learn  what  'tis  to  offend  a  father." 

Gerard  held  his  peace,  and  the  three  walked  home  in 
gloomy  silence,  broken  only  by  a  deep  sigh  or  two  from 
Catherine. 

From  that  hour  the  little  house  at  Tergou  was  no 
longer  the  abode  of  peace.  Gerard  was  taken  to  task 
next  day  before  the  whole  family,  and  every  voice  was 
loud  against  him,  except  little  Kate's  and  the  dwarf's, 
who  was  apt  to  take  his  cue  from  her  without  knowing 
why.  As  for  Cornelis  and  Sybrandt,  they  were  bitterer 
than  their  father.  Gerard  was  dismayed  at  finding  so 
many  enemies,  and  looked  wistfully  into  his  little  sister's 
face ;  her  eyes  were  brimming  at  the  harsh  words  show- 
ered on  one  who  but  yesterday  was  the  universal  pet. 
But  she  gave  him  no  encouragement;  she  turned  her 
head  away  from  him,  and  said : 

"  Dear,  dear  Gerard,  pray  to  Heaven  to  cure  you  of 
this  folly." 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  81 

"  What,  are  you  against  me  too  ?"  said  Gerard,  sadly, 
and  he  rose  with  a  deep  sigh,  and  left  the  house — and 
went  to  Sevenbergen. 

The  beginning  of  a  quarrel,  where  the  parties  are 
bound  by  affection  though  opposed  in  interest  and  senti- 
ment, is  comparatively  innocent ;  both  are  in  the  right  at 
first  starting,  and  then  it  is  that  a  calm,  judicious  friend, 
capable  of  seeing  both  sides,  is  a  gift  from  Heaven.  For 
the  longer  the  dissension  endures,  the  wider  and  deeper 
it  grows,  by  the  fallibility  and  irascibility  of  human  na- 
ture ;  these  are  not  confined  to  either  side,  and  finally 
the  invariable  end  is  reached — both  in  the  wrong. 

The  combatants  were  unequally  matched.  Gerard 
Senior  was  angry,  Cornelis  and  Syferandt  spiteful;  but 
Gerard,  having  a  larger  and  more  cultivated  mind,  saw 
both  sides  where  they  saw  but  one,  and  had  fits  of  irreso- 
lution, and  was  not  wroth,  but  unhappy.  He  was  lonely, 
too,  in  this  struggle.  He  could  open  his  heart  to  no  one. 
Margaret  was  a  high-spirited  girl ;  he  dared  not  tell  her 
what  he  had  to  endure  at  home ;  she  was  capable  of  sid- 
ing with  his  relations  by  resigning  him,  though  at  the 
cost  of  her  own  happiness.  Margaret  Van  Eyck  had 
been  a  great  comfort  to  him  on  another  occasion,  but 
now  he  dared  not  make  her  his  confidante.  Her  own 
history  was  well  known.  In  early  life  she  had  many  of- 
fers of  marriage,  but  refused  them  all  for  the  sake  of  that 
art  to  which  a  wife's  and  mother's  duties  are  so  fatal ; 
thus  she  remained  single,  and  painted  with  her  brothers. 
How  could  he  tell  her  that  he  declined  the  benefice  she 
had  got  him,  and  declined  it  for  the  sake  of  that  which 
at  his  age  she  had  despised  and  sacrificed  so  lightly. 

Gerard  at  this  period  bade  fair  to  succumb.  But  the 
other  side  had  a  horrible  ally  in  Catherine  Senior.  This 
good-hearted  but  uneducated  woman  could  not,  like  her 
daughter,  act  quietly  and  firmly ;  still  less  could  she  act 
upon  a  plan.  She  irritated  Gerard  at  times,  and  so  help- 
ed him,  for  anger  is  a  great  sustainer  of  the  courage ;  at 
D2 


82  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

others  she  turned  round  in  a  moment  and  made  on- 
slaughts on  her  own  forces.  To  take  a  single  instance 
out  of  many.  One  day  that  they  were  all  at  home, 
Catherine  and  all,  Cornells  said :  "  Our  Gerard  wed  Mar- 
garet Brandt !  Why,  it  is  hunger  marrying  thirst." 

"  And  what  will  it  be  when  you  marry  ?"  cried  Cath- 
erine. "  Gerard  can  paint,  Gerard  can  write,  but  what 
can  you  do  to  keep  a  woman,  ye  lazy  loon  ?  Naught  but 
wait  for  your  father's  shoes.  Oh,  we  can  see  why  you 
and  Sybrandt  would  not  have  the  poor  boy  to  marry. 
You  are  afraid  he  will  come  to  us  for  a  share  of  our  sub- 
stance. And  suppose  he  does,  and  suppose  we  give  it 
him ;  it  isn't  yours  to  say  nay,  and  mayhap  never  will  be." 

On  these  occasions  Gerard  smiled  slily,  and  picked  up 
heart;  and  temporary  confusion  fell  on  Catherine's  un- 
fortunate allies.  But  at  last,  after  more  than  six  months 
of  irritation,  came  the  climax.  The  father  told  the  son, 
before  the  whole  family,  he  had  ordered  the  Burgomaster 
to  imprison  him  in  the  Stadthouse  rather  than  let  him 
marry  Margaret.  Gerard  turned  pale  with  anger  at  this, 
but  by  a  great  effort  held  his  peace.  His  father  went  on 
to  say,  "  And  a  priest  you  shall  be  before  the  year  is  out, 
nilly  willy." 

"  Is  it  so  ?"  cried  Gerard.  "  Then  hear  me  all.  By 
God  and  St.  Bavon  I  swear  I  will  never  be  a  priest  while 
Margaret  lives.  Since  force  is  to  decide  it,  and  not  love 
and  duty,  try  force,  father ;  but  force  shall  not  serve  you, 
for  the  day  I  see  the  Burgomaster  come  for  me,  I  leave 
Tergou  forever,  and  Holland  too,  and  my  father's  house, 
where  it  seems  I  have  been  valued  all  these  years,  not  for 
myself,  but  for  what  is  to  be  got  out  of  me." 

And  he  flung  out  of  the  room  white  with  anger  and 
desperation. 

"There!"  cried  Catherine,  "that  comes  of  driving 
young  folk  too  hard.  But  men  are  crueler  than  tigers, 
even  to  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  Now,  Heaven  for- 
bid he  should  ever  leave  us,  married  or  single." 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  83 

As  Gerard  came  out  of  the  house,  his  cheeks  pale  and 
his  heart  panting,  he  met  Richt  Heynes ;  she  had  a  mes- 
sage for  him ;  Margaret  Van  Eyck  desired  to  see  him. 
He  found  the  old  lady  seated  grim  as  a  judge.  She 
wasted  no  time  in  preliminaries,  but  inquired  coldly  why 
he  had  not  visited  her  of  late ;  before  he  could  answer, 
she  said  in  a  sarcastic  tone,  "I  thought  we  had  been 
friends,  young  sir." 

At  this  Gerard  Idoked  the  picture  of  doubt  and  con- 
sternation. 

"  It  is  because  you  never  told  her  you  were  in  love," 
said  Richt  Heynes,  pitying  his  confusion. 

"  Silence,  wench !  Why  should  he  tell  us  his  affairs  ? 
We  are  not  his  friends ;  we  hav§  not  deserved  his  confi- 
dence." 

"Alas!  my  second  mother,"  said  Gerard,  "I  did  not 
dare  to  tell  you  my  folly." 

"  What  folly  ?    Is  it  folly  to  love  ?" 

"  I  am  told  so  every  day  of  my  life." 

"  You  need  not  have  been  afraid  to  tell  my  mistress ; 
she  is  always  kind  to  true  lovers." 

"  Madam — Richt — I  was  afraid  because  I  was  told — " 

"  Well  ?  you  were  told—" 

"  That  in  your  youth  you  scorned  love,  preferring  art." 

"  I  did,  boy ;  and  what  is  the  end  of  it  ?  Behold  me 
here  a  barren  stock,  while  the  women  of  my  youth  have 
a  troop  of  children  at  their  side,  and  grandchildren  at 
their  knee.  I  gave  up  the  sweet  joys  of  wifehood  and 
womanhood  for  what  ?  for  my  dear  brothers ;  they  have 
gone  and  left  me  long  ago — for  my  art ;  it  has  left  me 
too.  I  have  the  knowledge  still,  but  what  avails  that 
when  the  hand  trembles.  No,  Gerard ;  I  look  on  you  as 
my  son.  You  are  good,  you  are  handsome,  you  are  a 
painter,  though  not  like  some  I  have  known.  I  will  nev- 
er let  you  throw  your  youth  away  as  I  did  mine :  you 
shall  marry  this  Margaret.  I  have  inquired,  and  she  is  a 
good  daughter.  Richt  here  is  a  gossip.  She  has  told 


84  'A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

me  all  about  it.  But  that  need  not  hinder  you  to  tell 
me." 

Poor  Gerard  was  overjoyed  to  be  permitted  to  tell  his 
love  and  his  happiness,  and,  above  all,  to  praise  Margaret 
aloud,  and  to  one  who  could  understand  what  he  loved 
in  her. 

Soon  there  were  two  pair  of  wet  eyes  over  his  story ; 
and  when  the  poor  boy  saw  that,  there  were  three. 

Women  are  justly  famous  for  courage.  Theirs  is  not 
exactly  the  same  quality  as  manly  courage ;  that  would 
never  do,  hang  it  all ;  we  should  have  to  give  up  tram- 
pling on  them.  No ;  it  is  a  vicarious  courage.  They  nev- 
er take  part  in  a  bull-fight  by  any  chance ;  but  it  is  re- 
marked that  they  sit  at  one  unshaken  by  those  tremors 
and  apprehensions  for  the  combatants  to  which  the  male 
spectator — feeble-minded  wretch ! — is  subject.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  resolution  with  which  they  have  been 
known  to  send  forth  men  to  battle :  as  some  witty  dog 
says,  "  Les  femmes  sont  tres  braves  avec  le  peau  d'au- 
trui." 

By  this  trait  Gerard  now  profited.  Margaret  and 
Richt  were  agreed  that  a  man  should  always  take  the 
bull  by  the  horns.  Gerard's  only  course  was  to  many 
Margaret  Brandt  off-hand;  the  old  people  would  come 
to  after  a  while,  the  deed  once  done.  Whereas,  the  lon- 
ger this  misunderstanding  continued  on  its  present  foot- 
ing, the  worse  for  all  parties,  especially  for  Gerard. 

"  See  how  pale  and  thin  they  have  made  him  among 
them." 

"Indeed  you  are,  Master  Gerard,"  said  Richt.  "It 
makes  a  body  sad  to  see  a  young  man  so  wasted  and 
worn.  Mistress,  when  I  met  him  in  the  street  to-day,  I 
had  like  to  have  burst  out  crying — he  was  so  changed." 

"And  I'll  be  bound  the  others  keep  their  color:  eh, 
Richt  ?  such  as  it  is." 

"  Oh,  I  see  no  odds  in  them." 

"  Of  course  not.    We  painters  are  no  match  for  boors. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  85 

We  are  glass,  they  are  stone.  We  can't  stand  the  worry, 
worry,  worry  of  little  minds ;  and  it  is  not  for  the  good 
of  mankind  we  should  be  exposed  to  it.  It  is  hard  enough, 
God  knows,  to  design  and  paint  a  master-piece,  without 
having  gnats  and  flies  stinging  us  to  death  into  the  bar- 
gain." 

Exasperated  as  Gerard  was  by  his  father's  threat  of 
violence,  he  listened  to  these  friendly  voices  telling  him 
his  most  prudent  course  was  rebellion.  But  though  he 
listened  he  was  not  convinced. 

"  I  do  not  fear  my  father's  violence,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
do  fear  his  anger.  When  it  came  to  the  point  he  would 
not  imprison  me.  I  would  marry  Margaret  to-morrow 
if  that  was  my  only  fear.  No ;  he  would  disown  me.  I 
should  take  Margaret  from  her  father,  and  give  her  a  poor 
husband,  who  would  never  thrive,  weighed  down  by*  his 
parent's  curse.  Oh,  madam !  I  sometimes  think  if  I  could 
but  marry  her  secretly,  and  then  take  her  away  to  some 
country  where  my  craft  is  better  paid  than  in  this ;  and 
after  a  year  or  two,  when  the  storm  had  blown  over,  you 
know,  could  come  back  with  money  in  my  purse,  and  say, 
*  My  dear  parents,  we  do  not  seek  your  substance,  we  but 
ask  you  to  love  us  once  more  as  you  used,  and  as  we  have 
never  ceased  to  love  you' — but,  alas !  I  shall  be  told  these 
are  the  dreams  of  an  inexperienced  young  man." 

The  old  lady's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  It  is  no  dream,  but  a  piece  of  wonderful  common 
sense  in  a  boy ;  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  you  have 
spirit  to  carry  out  your  own  thought.  There  is  a  coun- 
try, Gerard,  where  certain  fortune  awaits  you  at  this  mo- 
ment. Here  the  arts  freeze,  but  there  they  flourish,  as 
they  never  yet  flourished  in  any  age  or  land." 

"  It  is  Italy  1"  cried  Gerard.     "  It  is  Italy !" 

"  Yes,  Italy !  where  painters  are  honored  like  princes, 
and  scribes  are  paid  three  hundred  crowns  for  copying  a 
single  manuscript.  Know  you  not  that  his  Holiness  the 
Pope  has  written  to  every  land  for  skillful  scribes  to  copy 


86  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

the  hundreds  of  precious  manuscripts  that  are  pouring 
into  that  favored  land  from  Constantinople,  whence  learn- 
ing and  learned  men  are  driven  by  the  barbarian  Turks." 

"  Nay,  I  know  not  that ;  but  it  has  been  the  dream 
and  hope  of  my  life  to  visit  Italy,  the  queen  of  all  the 
arts.  Oh,  madam !  but  the  journey,  and  we  are  all  so 
poor." 

"  Find  you  the  heart  to  go,  I'll  find  the  means.  I  know 
where  to  lay  my  hand  on  ten  golden  angels  to  take  you 
to  Rome ;  and  the  girl  will  go  with  you  if  she  loves  you 
as  she  ought." 

They  sat  till  midnight  over  this  theme.  And,  after 
that  day,  Gerard  recovered  his  spirits,  and  seemed  to 
carry  some  secret  talisman  against  all  the  gibes  and  the 
harsh  words  that  flew  about  his  ears  at  home. 

Besides  the  money  she  procured  him  for  the  journey, 
Margaret  Van  Eyck  gave  him  money's  worth.  Said  she, 
"  I  will  tell  you  secrets  that  I  learned  from  masters  that 
are  gone  from  me,  and  have  left  no  fellow  behind.  Even 
the  Italians  know  not  every  thing ;  and  what  I  tell  you 
now  in  Tergou  you  may  sell  dear  in  Florence.  Note 
my  brother  John's  pictures :  time,  which  fades  all  other 
paintings,  leaves  his  colors  bright  as  the  day  they  left 
the  easel.  The  reason  is,  he  did  nothing  blindly,  noth- 
ing in  a  hurry.  He  trusted  to  no  hireling  to  grind  his 
colors ;  he  did  it  himself,  or  saw  it  done.  His  panel  was 
prepared,  and  prepared  again — I  will  show  you  how — a 
year  before  he  laid  his  color  on.  Most  of  them  are  quite 
content  to  have  their  work  sucked  up  and  lost  sooner 
than  not  be  in  a  hurry — bad  painters  are  always  in  a 
hurry.  Above  all,  Gerard,  I  warn  you  never  boil  your 
oil;  boiling  it  melts  that  vegetable  dross  into  its  very 
heart,  which  it  is  our  business  to  clear  away ;  for  impure 
oil  is  death  to  color.  No ;  take  your  oil  and  pour  it  into 
a  bottle  with  water.  In  a  day  or  two  the  water  will  turn 
muddy :  that  is  muck  from  the  oil.  Pour  the  dirty  wa- 
ter carefully  away,  and  add  fresh.  When  that  is  poured 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  89 

away,  you  will  fancy  the  oil  is  clear.  You  are  mistaken. 
Richt,  fetch  me  that  1"  Richt  brought  a  glass  trough 
with  a  glass  lid  fitting  tight.  "  When  your  oil  has  been 
washed  in  bottle,  put  it  into  this  trough  with  water,  and 
put  the  trough  in  the  sun  all  day.  You  will  soon  see  the 
water  turbid  again.  But  mark,  you  must  not  carry  this 
game  too  far,  or  the  sun  will  turn  your  oil  to  varnish. 
When  it  is  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  not  too  drying,  drain 
carefully,  and  cork  it  up  tight.  Grind  your  own  prime 
colors,  and  lay  them  on  with  this  oil,  and  they  shall  live. 
Hubert  would  put  sand  or  salt  in  the  water  to  clear  the 
oil  quicker.  But  John  used  to  say,  'Water  will  do  it 
best,  if  you  but  give  water  time.'  Jan  Van  Eyck  was 
never  in  a  hurry,  and  that  is  why  the  world  will  not  for- 
get him  in  a  hurry." 

This  and  several  other  receipts — quae  nunc  perscribere 
longum  est — Margaret  gave  him  with  sparkling  eyes,  and 
Gerard  received  them  like  a  legacy  from  Heaven,  so  in- 
teresting are  some  things  that  read  uninteresting.  Thus 
provided  with  money  and  knowledge,  Gerard  decided  to 
marry  and  fly  with  his  wife  to  Italy.  Nothing  remained 
now  but  to  inform  Margaret  Brandt  of  his  resolution, 
and  to  publish  the  bans  as  quietly  as  possible.  He  went 
to  Sevenbergen  earlier  than  usual  on  both  these  errands. 
He  began  with  Margaret ;  told  her  of  the  Dame  Van 
Eyck's  goodness,  and  the  resolution  he  had  come  to  at 
last,  and  invited  her  co-operation. 

She  refused  it  plump. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

"  No,  Gerard ;  you  and  I  have  never  spoken  of  your 
family,  but  when  you  come  to  marriage — "  She  stopped, 
then  began  again.  "  I  do  think  your  father  has  no  ob- 
jection to  me  more  than  to  another.  He  told  Peter 
Buysken  as  much,  and  Peter  told  me.  But  so  long  as 


90  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

he  is  so  bent  on  your  being  a  priest  (you  ought  to  have 
told  me  this  instead  of  I  you),  I  could  not  marry  you, 
Gerard,  dearly  as  I  love  you." 

Gerard  strove  in  vain  to  shake  this  resolution.  He 
found  it  very  easy  to  make  her  cry,  but  impossible  to 
make  her  yield.  Then  Gerard  was  impatient  and  unjust. 

"  Very  well !"  he  cried ;  "  then  you  are  on  their  side, 
and  you  wih1  drive  me  to  be  a  priest,  for  this  must  end 
one  way  or  another.  My  parents  hate  me  in  earnest,  but 
my  lover  only  loves  me  in  jest !" 

And  with  this  wild,  bitter  speech,  he  flung  away  home 
again,  and  left  Margaret  weeping. 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

WHEN  a  man  misbehaves,  the  effect  is  curious  on  a 
girl  who  loves  him  sincerely.  It  makes  her  pity  him. 
This,  to  some  of  us  males,  seems  any  thing  but  logical. 
The  fault  is  in  our  own  eye,  the  logic  is  too  swift  for  us. 
The  girl  argues  thus :  "  How  unhappy,  how  vexed,  poor 
*  *  *  must  be ;  him  to  misbehave !" 

Margaret  was  full  of  this  sweet  womanly  pity,  when, 
to  her  great  surprise,  scarce  an  hour  and  a  half  after  he 
left  her,  Gerard  came  running  back  to  her  with  the  frag- 
ments of  a  picture  in  his  hand,  and  panting  with  anger 
and  grief. 

"  There,  Margaret !  see !  see !  the  wretches !  Look  at 
their  spite !  They  have  cut  your  portrait  to  pieces." 

Margaret  looked.  And,  sure  enough,  some  malicious 
hand  had  cut  her  portrait  into  five  pieces.  She  was  a 
good  girl, but  she  was  not  ice;  she  turned  red  to  her 
very  forehead. 

"Who  did  it?" 

"  Nay,  I  know  not.  I  dared  not  ask ;  for  I  should  hate 
the  hand  that  did  it,  ay,  till  my  dying  day.  My  poor 
Margaret!  The  beasts!  the  ruffians!  Six  months' work 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  91 

eut  out  of  my  life,  and  nothing  to  show  for  it  now.  See, 
they  have  hacked  through  your  very  face — the  sweet 
face  that  every  one  loves  who  knows  it.  Oh,  heartless, 
merciless  vipers !" 

"Never  mind,  Gerard,"  said  Margaret,  panting. 
"  Since  this  is  how  they  treat  you  for  my  sake — you  rob 
him  of  my  portrait,  do  you  ?  Well,  then  I  give  him  the 
original." 

"  Oh,  Margaret !" 

"  Yes,  Gerard ;  since  they  are  so  cruel,  I  will  be  the 
kinder:  forgive  me  for  refusing  you.  I  will  be  your 
wife — to-morrow,  if  it  is  your  pleasure." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  bans  of  marriage  had  to  be  read  three  times,  as 
with  us ;  but  they  were  read  on  week-days,  and  the  young 
couple  easily  persuaded  the  cure  to  do  the  three  readings 
in  twenty-four  hours :  he  was  new  to  the  place,  and  their 
looks  spoke  volumes  in  their  favor.  They  were  cried  on 
Monday  at  matins  and  at  vespers ;  and,  to  their  great 
delight,  nobody  from  Tergou  was  in  the  church.  The 
next  morning  they  were  both  there  palpitating  with  anx- 
iety, when,  to  their  horror,  a  stranger  stood  up  and  for- 
bade the  bans,  on  the  score  that  the  parties  were  not  of 
age,  and  their  parents  not  consenting. 

Outside  the  church  door,  Margaret  and  Gerard  held  a 
trembling  and  almost  despairing  consultation ;  but,  be- 
fore they  could  settle  any  thing,  the  man  who  had  done 
them  so  ill  a  turn  approached,  and  gave  them  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  very  sorry  to  interfere ;  that  his  inclin- 
ation was  to  further  the  happiness  of  the  young:  but 
that  in  point  of  fact  his  only  means  of  getting  a  living 
was  by  forbidding  bans :  what  then  ?  The  young  peo- 
ple give  me  a  crown,  and  I  undo  my  work  handsomely ; 
tell  the  cure  I  was  misinformed ;  and  all  goes  smoothly. 


92  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"A  crown?  I  will  give  you  a  golden  angel  to  do 
this,"  said  Gerard,  eagerly.  The  man  consented  as  eager- 
ly, and  went  with  Gerard  to  the  cure,  and  told  him  he 
had  made  a  ridiculous  mistake,  which  a  sight  of  the  par- 
ties had  rectified.  On  this  the  cure  agreed  to  marry  the 
young  couple  next  day  at  10:  and  the  professional  ob- 
structer  of  bliss  went  home  with  Gerard's  angel.  Like 
most  of  these  very  clev.er  knaves,  he  was  a  fool,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  drink  his  angel  at  a  certain  hostelry  hi  Tergou, 
where  was  a  green  devoted  to  archery  and  the  common 
sports  of  the  day.  There,  being  drunk,  he  bragged  of 
his  day's  exploit;  and  who  should  be  there,  imbibing 
every  word,  but  a  great  frequenter  of  the  sport,  the  ne'er- 
do-weel  Sybrandt.  Sybrandt  ran  home  to  tell  his  father ; 
his  father  was  not  at  home ;  he  was  gone  to  Rotterdam 
to  buy  cloth  of  the  merchants.  Catching  his  elder  broth- 
er's eye,  he  made  him  a  signal  to  come  out,  and  told  him 
what  he  had  heard. 

There  are  black  sheep  hi  nearly  every  large  family : 
and  these  two  were  Gerard's  black  brothers.  Idleness 
is  vitiating :  waiting  for  the  death  of  those  we  ought  to 
love  is  vitiating:  and  these  two  one-idea'd  curs  were 
ready  to  tear  any  one  to  death  that  should  interfere  with 
that  miserable  inheritance,  which  was  their  thought  by 
day  and  their  dream  by  night.  Their  parents'  parsimony 
was  a  virtue;  it  was  accompanied  by  industry,  and  its 
motive  was  love  of  their  offspring :  but  in  these  perverse 
and  selfish  hearts  that  homely  virtue  was  perverted  into 
avarice,  than  which  no  more  fruitful  source  of  crimes  is 
to  be  found  hi  nature. 

They  put  their  heads  together,  and  agreed  not  to  tell 
their  mother,  whose  sentiments  were  so  uncertain,  but  to 
go  first  to  the  Burgomaster.  They  were  cunning  enough 
to  see  that  he  was  averse  to  the  match,  though  they 
could  not  divine  why. 

Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  saw  through  them  at  once ; 
but  he  took  care  not  to  let  them  see  through  him.  He 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  93 

heard  their  story;  and  putting  on  magisterial  dignity 
and  coldness,  he  said : 

"  Since  the  father  of  the  family  is  not  here,  his  duty 
devolves  on  me,  who  am  the  father  of  the  town.  I  know 
your  father's  mind ;  leave  all  to  me :  and,  above  all,  tell 
no  woman  a  word  of  all  this,  least  of  all  the  women  that 
are  in  your  own  house :  for  chattering  tongues  mar  the 
wisest  counsels." 

So  he  dismissed  them  a  little  superciliously :  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  confederates. 

On  their  return  home  they  found  their  brother  Gerard 
seated  on  a  low  stool  at  their  mother's  knee:  she  was 
caressing  his  hair  with  her  hand,  speaking  very  kindly 
to  hun,  and  promising  to  take  his  part  with  his  father 
and  thwart  his  love  no  more.  The  mam  cause  of  this 
change  of  mind  was  one  that  the  reader  will  comprehend, 
if  he  has  ever  known  a  woman  of  this  kind.  It  was  this. 
She  it  was  who  in  a  moment  of  female  irritation  had  cut 
Margaret's  picture  to  pieces.  She  had  watched  the  effect 
with  some  misgivings,  and  had  seen  Gerard  turn  pale  as 
death,  and  sit  motionless  like  a  bereaved  creature,  with 
the  pieces  in  his  hands,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  them  till 
tears  came  and  blinded  them.  Then  she  was  terrified  at 
what  she  had  done ;  and  next  her  heart  smote  her  bitter- 
ly ;  and  she  wept  sore  apart :  but,  being  what  she  was, 
dared  not  own  it,  but  said  to  herself,  "I'll  not  say  a 
word,  but  I'll  make  it  up  to  him."  And  her  bowels 
yearned  over  her  son,  and  her  feeble  violence  died  a  nat- 
ural death,  and  she  was  transferring  her  fatal  alliance  to 
Gerard  when  the  two  black  sheep  came  in.  Gerard  knew 
nothing  of  the  immediate  cause ;  on  the  contrary,  her 
kindness  made  this  novice  ashamed  of  a  suspicion  he  had 
for  a  moment  entertained  that  she  was  the  depredator ; 
and  he  kissed  her  again  and  again,  and  went  to  bed  hap- 
py as  a  prince  to  think  his  mother  was  his  mother  once 
more  at  the  very  crisis  of  his  fate. 


94  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

The  next  morning,  at  10  o'clock,  Gerard  and  Margaret 
were  in  the  church  at  Sevenbergen — he  radiant  with  joy, 
she  with  blushes.  Peter  was  also  there,  and  Martin 
Wittenhaagen,  but  no  other  friend.  Secrecy  was  every 
thing.  Margaret  had  declined  Italy.  She  could  not 
leave  her  father;  he  was  too  learned  and  too  helpless. 
But  it  was  settled  they  should  retire  into  Flanders  for  a 
few  weeks  until  the  storm  should  be  blown  over  at  Ter- 
gou.  The  cure  did  not  keep  them  waiting  long,  though 
it  seemed  an  age.  Presently  he  stood  at  the  altar,  and 
called  them  to  him.  They  went  hand  in  hand,  the  hap- 
piest in  Holland.  The  cure  opened  his  book. 

But  ere  he  had  uttered  a  single  word  of  the  sacred  rite, 
a  harsh  voice  cried  "  Forbear !"  And  the  constables  of 
Tefgou  came  up  the  aisle  and  seized  Gerard  in  the  name 
of  the  law.  Martin's  long  knife  flashed  out  directly. 

"Forbear,  man!"  cried  the  Priest.  "What!  draw 
your  weapon  in  a  church !  And  you  who  interrupt  this 
holy  sacrament — what  means  this  impiety  ?" 

"  There  is  no  impiety,  father,"  said  the  Burgomaster's 
servant  respectfully.  "This  young  man  would  marry 
against  his  father's  will,  and  his  father  has  prayed  our 
Burgomaster  to  deal  with  him  according  to  the  law. 
Let  him  deny  it  if  he  can." 

"  Is  this  so,  young  man  ?" 

Gerard  hung  his  head. 

"  We  take  him  to  Rotterdam  to  abide  the  sentence  of 
the  duke." 

At  this  Margaret  uttered  a  cry  of  despair,  and  the 
young  creatures,  who  were  so  happy  a  moment  ago,  fell 
to  sobbing  in  one  another's  arms  so  piteously  that  the 
instruments  of  oppression  drew  back  a  step,  and  were 
ashamed ;  but  one  of  them  that  was  good-natured  step- 
ped up  under  pretense  of  separating  them,  and  whispered : 

"Rotterdam?  it's  a  lie!  We  but  take  him  to  our 
Stadthouse." 

They  took  him  away  on  horseback,  on  the  road  to 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  97 

Rotterdam ;  and,  after  a  dozen  halts,  and  by  sly  detours, 
to  Tergou.  Just  outside  the  town  they  were  met  by  a 
rude  vehicle  covered  with  canvas.  Gerard  was  put  into 
this,  and  about  five  in  the  evening  was  secretly  conveyed 
into  the  prison  of  the  Stadthouse.  He  was  taken  up 
several  nights  of  stairs,  and  thrust  into  a  'small  room 
lighted  only  by  a  narrow  window,  with  a  vertical  iron 
bar.  The  whole  furniture  was  a  huge  oak  chest. 

Imprisonment  in  those  days  was  one  of  the  high  roads 
to  death.  It  is  horrible  in  its  mildest  form ;  but  in  these 
days  it  implied  cold,  unbroken  solitude,  torture,  starva- 
tion, and  often  poison.  Gerard  felt  he  was  in  the  hands 
of  an  enemy. 

"  Oh,  the  look  that  man  gave  me  on  the  road  to  Rot- 
terdam. There  is  more  here  than  my  father's  wrath.  I 
doubt  I  shall  see  no  more  the  light  of  day."  And  he 
kneeled  down  and  commended  his  soul  to  God. 

Then  he  rose  and  sprang  at  the  iron  bar  of  the  window 
and  clutched  it.  This  enabled  him,  by  pressing  his  knees 
against  the  wall,  to  look  out.  It  was  but  for  a  minute  ; 
but  in  that  minute  he  saw  a  sight  that  none  but  a  captive 
can  appreciate. 

He  saw  Martin  Winterhaagen's  back. 

Martin  was  sitting  quietly  fishing  in  the  brook  near 
the  Stadthouse. 

Gerard  sprang  again  at  the  window,  and  whistled. 
Martin  instantly  showed  that  he  was  watching  much 
harder  than  he  was  fishing.  He  turned  hastily  round 
and  saw  Gerard ;  made  him  a  signal,  and  taking  up  his 
line  and  bow  went  quickly  off. 

Gerard  saw  by  this  that  his  friends  were  not  idle,  yet 
he  had  rather  Martin  had  staid ;  the  very  sight  of  him 
was  a  comfort.  He  held  on,  looking  at  the  soldier's  re- 
tiring form  as  long  as  he  could ;  then  falling  back  some- 
what heavily,  wrenched  the  rusty  iron  bar — held  only  by 
rusty  iron  nails — away  from  the  stone-work  just  as  Ghys- 
brecht  Van  Swieten  opened  the  door  stealthily  behind 

E 


98  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

him.  The  Burgomaster's  eye  fell  instantly  on  the  iron, 
and  then  glanced  at  the  window ;  but  he  said  nothing. 
The  window  was  eighty  feet  high ;  and  if  Gerard  had  a 
fancy  for  jumping  out,  why  should  he  balk  it  ?  He 
brought  a  brown  loaf  and  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  set 
them  on  the  chest  in  solemn  silence.  Gerard's  first  im- 
pulse was  to  brain  him  with  the  iron  bar,  and  fly  down 
the  stairs ;  but  the  Burgomaster  seeing  something  wick- 
ed in  his  eye,  gave  a  little  cough,  and  three  stout  fellows, 
armed,  showed  themselves  directly  at  the  door. 

"  My  orders  are  to  keep  you  thus  until  you  shall  bind 
yourself  by  an  oath  to  leave  Margaret  Brandt  and  return 
to  the  church  to  which  you  have  belonged  from  infancy." 

"  Death  sooner !" 

"  As  you  please."    And  the  Burgomaster  retired. 

Martin  went  with  all  speed  to  Sevenbergen ;  there  he 
found  Margaret  pale  and  agitated,  but  full  of  resolution 
and  energy.  She  was  just  finishing  a  letter  to  the  Count- 
ess Charolois,  appealing  to  her  against  the  violence  and 
treachery  of  Ghysbrecht. 

"  Courage !"  cried  Martin,  on  entering.  "  I  have  found 
him.  He  is  in  the  haunted  tower ;  right  at  the  top  of  it. 
Ay !  I  know  the  place :  many  a  poor  fellow  has  gone  up 
there  straight,  and  come  down  feet  foremost." 

He  then  told  them  how  he  had  looked  up  and  seen 
Gerard's  face  at  a  window  that  was  like  a  slit  in  the  wall. 

"  Oh,  Martin !  how  did  he  look  ?" 

"  What  mean  you  ?  He  looked  like  Gerard  Gerards- 
soen." 

"  But  was  he  pale  ?" 

"A  little." 

"  Looked  he  anxious  ?    Looked  he  like  one  doomed  ?" 

"  Nay,  nay ;  as  bright  as  a  pewter  pot." 

"  You  mock  me.  Ah !  then  that  was  at  sight  of  you. 
He  counts  on  us.  Oh!  what  shah"  we  do?  Martin, 
good  friend,  take  this  at  once  to  Rotterdam." 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  99 

Martin  held'  out  his  hand  for  the  letter,  but  was  inter- 
rupted. 

Peter  had  sat  silent  all  this  time,  but  pondering,  and, 
contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  keenly  attentive  to  what 
was  going  on  around  him. 

"  Put  not  your  trust  in  princes,"  said  he. 

"  Alas !  what  else  have  we  to  trust  in  ?" 

"  Knowledge." 

"  Alas,  father !  your  learning  will  not  serve  us  here." 

"  How  know  you  that  ?  Wit  has  been  too  strong  for 
iron  bars  ere  to-day." 

"  Ay,  father ;  but  nature  is  stronger  than  wit,  and  she 
is  against  us.  Think  of  the  height  1  No  ladder  in  Hol- 
land might  reach." 

"  I  need  no  ladder :  what  I  need  is  a  gold  crown." 

"  Nay,  I  have  money,  for  that  matter.  I  have  nine 
angels.  Gerard  gave  them  me  to  keep;  but  what  do 
they  avail  ?  The  Burgomaster  will  not  be  bribed  to  let 
Gerard  free." 

"  What  do  they  avail  ?  Give  me  but  one  crown,  and 
the  young  man  shall  sup  with  us  this  night." 

Peter  spoke  so  eagerly  and  confidently,  that  for  a 
moment  Margaret  felt  hopeful ;  but  she  caught  Martin's 
eye  dwelling  upon  him  with  an  expression  of  benevolent 
contempt. 

"  It  passes  the  powera  of  man's  invention,"  said  she, 
with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Invention  ?"  cried  the  old  man.  "  A  fig  for  inven- 
tion !  What  need  we  invention  at  this  time  of  day  ? 
Every  thing  has  been  said  that  is  to  be  said,  and  done 
that  can  be  done.  I  shall  tell  you  how  a  Florentine 
knight  was  shut  up  in  a  tower  higher  than  Gerard's :  yet 
did  his  faithful  squire  stand  at  the  tower  foot  and  get 
him  out,  with  no  other  engine  than  that  in  your  hand, 
Martin,  and  certain  kickshaws  I  shall  buy  for  a  crown." 

Martin  looked  at  his  bow,  and  turned  it  round  in  his 
hand ;  and  seemed  to  interrogate  it.  But  the  examina- 
tion left  him  as  incredulous  as  before. 


100  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

Then  Peter  told  them  his  story,  how  the  faithful  squire 
got  the  knight  out  of  a  high  tower  at  Brescia.  The 
manoeuvre,  like  most  things  that  are  really  scientific,  was 
so  simple,  that  now  their  wonder  was  they  had  taken  for 
impossible  a  thing  which  was  not  even  difficult. 

The  letter  never  went  to  Rotterdam.  They  trusted 
to  Peter's  learning  and  their  own  dexterity. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  on  a  clear  moonlight  night ;  Gerard, 
senior,  was  still  away ;  the  rest  of  his  little  family  had 
been  some  time  abed. 

A  figure  stood  by  the  dwarf's  bed.  It  was  white,  and 
the  moonlight  shone  on  it. 

With  an  unearthly  noise,  between  a  yell  and  a  snarl, 
the  gymnast  rolled  off  his  bed  and  under  it  by  a  single 
unbroken  movement.  A  soft  voice  followed  him  in  his 
retreat. 

"  Why,  Giles,  are  you  afearcl  of  me  ?" 

At  this,  Giles's  head  peeped  cautiously  out,  and  he  saw 
it  was  only  his  sister  Kate. 

She  put  her  finger  to  her  lips.  "  Hush !  lest  the  wick- 
ed Cornelis  or  the  wicked  Sybrandt  hear  us." 

She  then  revealed  to  Giles  that  she  had  heard  Cornelis 
and  Sybrandt  mention  Gerard's  name ;  and  being  herself 
in  great  anxiety  at  his  not  coming  home  all  day,  had 
listened  at  their  door,  and  had  made  a  fearful  discovery. 
Gerard  was  in  prison,  in  the  haunted  tower  of  the  Stadt- 
house.  He  was  there  it  seemed  by  their  father's  author- 
ity. But  here  must  be  some  treachery;  for  how  could 
their  father  have  ordered  this  cruel  act  ?  he  was  at  Rot- 
terdam. She  ended  by  entreating  Giles  to  bear  her 
company  to  the  foot  of  the  haunted  tower,  to  say  a  word 
of  comfort  to  poor  Gerard,  and  let  him  know  their  father 
was  absent,  and  would  be  sure  to  release  him  on  his  re- 
turn. 

"  Dear  Giles,  I  would  go  alone,  but  I  am  afeard  of  the 
spirits  that  men  say  do  haunt  the  tower :  but  with  you  I 
shall  not  be  afeard." 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  101 

"  Nor  I  with  you,"  said  Giles.  "  I  don't  believe  there 
are  any  spirits  in  Tergou.  I  never  saw  one.  This  last 
was  the  likest  one  ever  I  saw ;  and  it  was  only  you, 
Kate,  after  all." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Giles  and  Kate  opened  the 
house  door  cautiously  and  issued  forth.  She  made  him 
carry  a  lantern,  though  the  night  was  bright.  "The 
lantern  gives  me  more  courage  against  the  evil  spirits," 
said  she. 

The  first  day  of  imprisonment  is  very  trying,  especial- 
ly if  to  the  horror  of  captivity  is  added  the  horror  of 
utter  solitude.  I  observe  that  in  our  own  day  a  great 
many  persons  commit  suicide  during  the  first  twenty-four 
hours  of  the  solitary  cell.  This  is  doubtless  why  our 
Jairi  abstain  so  carefully  from  the  impertinence  of  watch- 
ing their  little  experiment  upon  the  human  soul  at  that, 
stage  of  it. 

As  the  sun  declined,  Gerard's  heart  too  sank  and  sank : 
with  the  waning  light,  even  the  embers  of  hope  went 
out.  He  was  faint,  too,  with  hunger ;  for  he  was  afraid 
to  eat  the  food  Ghysbrecht  had  brought  him :  and  hun- 
ger alone  cows  men.  He  sat  upon  the  chest,  his  arms  and 
his  head  drooping  before  him,  a  picture  of  despondency. 
Suddenly  something  struck  the  wall  beyond  him  very 
sharply,  and  then  rattled  on  the  floor  at  his  feet.  It  was 
an  arrow ;  he  saw  the  white  feather.  A  chill  ran  through 
him — they  meant  then  to  assassinate  him  from  the  out- 
side. He  crouched.  No  more  missiles  came.  He  crawl- 
ed on  all  fours,  and  took  up  the  arrow :  there  was  no 
head  to  it.  He  uttered  a  cry  of  hope :  had  a  friendly 
hand  shot  it  ?  He  took  it  up,  and  felt  it  all  over :  he 
found  a  soft  substance  attached  to  it.  Then  one  of  his 
eccentricities  was  of  grand  use  to  him.  His  tinder-box 
enabled  him  to  strike  a  light :  it  showed  him  two  things 
that  made  his  heart  bound  with  delight,  none  the  less 
thrilling  for  being  somewhat  vague.  Attached  to  the 


102  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

arrow  was  a  skein  of  silk,  and  on  the  arrow  itself  were 
words  written. 

How  his  eye  devoured  them,  his  heart  panting  the 
while! 

tDeil  beiot)eb,  make  fast  the  silk  to  thjj  knife  anb 
lower  to  us;  but  holb  thg  enb  fast;  then  count  an 
hrmbreb  anb  bratn  up. 

Gerard  seized  the  oak  chest,  and  with  almost  super- 
human energy  dragged  it  to  the  window :  a  moment  ago 
he  could  not  have  moved  it.  Standing  on  the  chest  and 
looking  down  he  saw  figures  at  the  tower  foot.  They 
were  so  indistinct  they  looked  h'ke  one  huge  form.  He 
waved  his  bonnet  to  them  with  trembling  hand :  then  he 
undid  the  silk  rapidly  but  carefully,  and  made  one  end 
fast  to  his  knife,  and  lowered  it  tUl  it  ceased  to  draw. 
Then  he  counted  a  hundred.  Then  pulled  the  silk  care- 
fully up :  it  came  up  a  little  heavier.  At  last  he  came  to 
a  large  knot,  and  by  that  knot  a  stout  whipcord  was 
attached  to  the  silk.  What  might  this  mean  ?  While 
he  was  puzzling  himself  Margaret's  voice  came  up  to  him, 
low  but  clear.  "  Draw  up,  Gerard,  till  you  see  liberty  in 
your  hand."  At  the  word  Gerard  drew  the  whipcord 
line  up,  and  drew  and  drew  till  he  came  to  another  knot, 
and  found  a  cord  of  some  thickness  take  the  place  of  the 
whipcord.  He  had  no  sooner  begun  to  draw  this  up 
than  he  found  that  he  had  now  a  heavy  weight  to  deal 
with.  Then  the  truth  suddenly  flashed  on  him,  and  he 
went  to  work,  and  pulled  and  pulled  till  the  perspiration 
rolled  down  him;  the  weight  got  heavier  and  heavier, 
and  at  last  he  was  well-nigh  exhausted;  looking  down 
he  saw  in  the  moonlight  a  sight  that  revived  him :  it  was 
as  it  were  a  great  snake  coming  up  to  him  out  of  the 
deep  shadow  cast  by  the  tower.  He  gave  a  shout  of 
joy,  and  a  score  more  wild  pulls,  and  lo!  a  stout  new 
rope  touched  his  hand :  he  hauled  and  hauled,  and  drag- 
ged the  end  into  his  power,  and  instantly  passed  it 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  103 

through  both  handles  of  the  chest  in  succession,  and 
knotted  it  firmly ;  then  sat  for  a  moment  to  recover  his 
breath  and  collect  his  courage.  The  first  thing  was  to 
make  sure  that  the  chest  was  sound,  and  capable  of  re- 
sisting his  weight  poised  in  mid-air.  He  jumped  with 
all  his  force  upon  it.  At  the  third  jump  the  whole  side 
burst  open,  and  out  scuttled  the  contents,  a  host  of  parch- 
ments. 

After  the  first  start  and  misgiving  this  gave  him,  Gerard 
comprehended  that  the  chest  had  not  burst  but  opened : 
he  had  doubtless  jumped  upon  the  secret  spring.  Still 
it  shook  in  some  degree  his  confidence  in  the  chest's 
powers  of  resistance ;  so  he  gave  it  an  ally :  he  took  the 
iron  bar  and  fastened  it  with  the  small  rope  across  the 
large  rope,  and  across  the  window.  He  now  mounted 
the  chest,  and  from  the  chest  put  his  foot  through  the 
window,  and  sat  half  in  and  half  out,  with  one  hand  on 
that  part  of  the  rope  which  was  inside.  It  was  a  nervous 
moment ;  but  the  free  air  breathed  on  his  face  and  gave 
him  the  courage  to  risk  what  we  must  all  lose  one  day — 
for  liberty.  Many  dangers  awaited  him,  but  the  greatest 
was  the  first  getting  on  to  the  rope  outside.  Gerard  re- 
flected. Finally  he  put  himself  in  the  attitude  of  a  swim- 
mer, his  body  to  the  waist  being  in  the  prison,  his  legs 
outside.  Then  holding  the  inside  rope  with  both  hands, 
he  felt  with  his  feet  for  the  outside  rope,  and  when  he 
had  got  it  he  worked  it  hi  between  the  palms  of  his  feet, 
and  kept  it  there  tight :  then  he  put  his  left  hand  on  the 
sill  and  gradually  wriggled  out.  Then  he  seized  the  iron 
bar  and  for  one  fearful  moment  hung  outside  from  it  by 
his  right  hand,  while  his  left  hand  seized  the  rope  down 
at  his  knees.  It  was  too  tight  against  the  wall  for  his 
fingers  to  get  round  it  higher  up.  The  next  moment  he 
left  the  bar  and  swiftly  seized  the  rope  with  the  right 
hand  too ;  but  in  this  manoeuvre  his  body  necessarily  de- 
scended about  a  yard,  and  a  stifled  cry  came  up  from  be- 
low. Gerard  hung  in  mid-air.  He  clenched  his  teeth, 


104  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

and  nipped  the  rope  tight  with  his  feet  and  gripped  it 
with  his  hands,  and  went  down  slowly  hand  below  hand. 
He  passed  by  one  huge  rough  stone  after  another.  He 
saw  there  was  green  moss  on  one  or  two.  He  looked 
up  and  he  looked  down.  The  moon  shone  upon  his 
prison  window:  it  seemed  very  near.  The  fluttering 
figures  below  seemed  an  awful  distance.  It  made  him 
dizzy  to  look  down :  so  he  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  on  the 
waU  close  to  him,  and  went  slowly  down,  down,  down. 

He  passed  a  rusty  slimy  streak  on  the  wall,  it  was  some 
ten  feet  long.  The  rope  made  his  hands  very  hot.  He 
stole  another  look  up. 

The  prison  window  was  a  good  way  off,  now. 

Down — down — down — down. 

The  rope  made  his  hands  sore. 

He  looked  up.  The  window  was  so  distant,  he  ven- 
tured now  to  turn  his  eyes  downward  again :  and  then, 
not  more  than  thirty  feet  below  him  were  Margaret  and 
Martin,  their  faithful  hands  upstretched  to  catch  him 
should  he  fall.  He  could  see  their  eyes  and  their  teeth 
shine. 

"  Take  care,  Gerard !  Oh,  take  care !  Look  not 
down." 

"  Fear  me  not,"  cried  Gerard,  joyfully,  and  eyed  the 
wall,  but  came  down  faster. 

In  another  minute  his  feet  were  at  their  hands.  They 
seized  him  ere  he  touched  the  ground,  and  ah1  three  clung 
together  in  one  rapturous,  panting  embrace. 

"  Hush !  away  in  silence,  dear  one." 

They  stole  along  the  shadow  of  the  wall. 

But  ere  they  had  gone  many  yards  suddenly  a  stream 
of  light  shot  from  an  angle  of  the  building,  and  lay  across 
their  path  like  a  barrier  of  fire,  and  they  heard  whispers 
and  footsteps  close  at  hand. 

"  Back !"  hissed  Martin.     "  Keep  in  the  shade." 

They  hurried  back,  passed  the  dangling  rope,  and  made 
for  a  little  square  projecting  tower.  They  had  barely 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  105 

rounded  it  when  the  light  shot  trembling  past  them,  and 
flickered  uncertainly  into  the  distance. 

"  A  lantern !"  groaned  Martin,  in  a  whisper.  "  They 
are  after  us." 

"  Give  me  my  knife,"  whispered  Gerard.  "  I'll  never 
be  taken  alive." 

"No,  no!"  murmured  Margaret:  "is  there  no  way 
out  where  we  are  ?" 

"  None,  none !  but  I  carry  six  lives  at  my  shoulder :" 
and  with  the  word,  Martin  strung  his  bow,  and  fitted  an 
arrow  to  the  string:  "in  war  never  wait  to  be  struck: 
I  will  kill  one  or  two  ere  they  shall  know  where  their 
death  comes  from :"  then,  motioning  his  companions  to 
be  quiet,  he  began  to  draw  his  bow,  and  ere  the  arrow 
was  quite  drawn  to  the-  head,  he  glided  round  the  corner 
ready  to  loose  the  string  the  moment  the  enemy  should 
ofier  a  mark. 

Gerard  and  Margaret  palpitated.  They  had  never 
seen  life  taken. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  I  HOPE  'tis  the  Burgomaster  that  carries  the  light," 
paid  the  escaped  prisoner,  panting  with  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  horror  and  exultation.  The  soldier,  he  knew, 
would  send  an  arrow  through  a  burgher  or  a  burgomas- 
ter, as  he  would  through  a  boar  in  a  wood. 

But  who  may  foretell  the  future,  however  near  ?  The 
bow,  instead  of  remaining  firm  and  loosing  the  deadly 
shaft,  was  seen  to  waver  first,  then  shake  violently,  and 
the  stout  soldier  staggered  back  to  them,  his  knees 
knocking  and  his  cheeks  blanched  with  fear.  He  let  his 
arrow  fall,  and  clutched  Gerard's  shoulder. 

"  Let  me  feel  flesh  and  blood,"  he  gasped :  "  the  haunt- 
ed tower !  the  haunted  tower !" 

His  terror  communicated  itself  to  Margaret  and  Ge- 
E2 


106  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

rard.  They  could  hardly  find  breath  to  ask  him  what  he 
had  seen. 

"  Hush !"  he  cried,  "  it  will  hear  you.  Up  the  wall ! 
it  is  going  ^lp  the  wall!  Its  head  is  on  fire.  Up  the 
wall,  as  mortal  creatures  walk  upon  green  sward.  If 
you  know  a  prayer,  say  it !  For  hell  is  loose  to-night." 

"  I  have  power  to  exorcise  spirits,"  said  Gerard,  trem- 
bling. "  I  will  venture  forth." 

"  Go  alone,  then !"  said  Martin,  "  I  have  looked  on't 
once  and  live." 

Gerard  stepped  forth,  and  Margaret  seized  his  hand 
and  held  it  convulsively,  and  they  crept  out. 

Sure  enough,  a  sight  struck  their  eyes  that  benumbed 
them  as  they  stood.  Half  way  up  the  tower,  a  creature 
with  fiery  head,  like  an  enormous  glow-worm,  was  going 
steadily  up  the  wall :  the  body  was  dark,  but  its  outline 
visible,  and  the  whole  creature  not  much  less  than  four 
feet  long. 

At  the  foot  of  the  tower  stood  a  thing  in  white,  that 
looked  exactly  like  the  figure  of  a  female.  Gerard  and 
Margaret  palpitated  with  awe. 

"  The  rope — the  rope !  It  is  going  up  the  rope — not 
the  wall,"  gasped  Gerard. 

As  they  gazed,  the  glow-worm  disappeared  in  Gerard's 
late  prison,  but  its  light  illuminated  the  cell  inside  and 
reddened  the  window.  The  white  figure  stood  motion- 
less below. 

Such  as  can  retain  their  senses  after  the  first  prostra- 
ting effect  of  the  supernatural  are  apt  to  experience  terror 
in  one  of  its  strangest  forms,  a  wild  desire  to  fling  them- 
selves upon  the  terrible  object.  It  fascinates  them  as 
the  snake  the  bird.  The  great  tragedian  Macready  used 
to  render  this  finely  in  Macbeth  at  Banquo's  second  ap- 
pearance. He  flung  himself  with  averted  head  at  the 
horrible  shadow.  This  strange  impulse  now  seized  Mar- 
garet. She  put  down  Gerard's  hand  quietly,  and  stood 
fascinated ;  then,  all  in  a  moment,  with  a  wild  cry,  dart- 


A   GOOD    FIGHT.  109 

ed  toward  the  spectre.     Gerard,  not  aware  of  the  natu- 
ral impulse  I  have  spoken  of,  never  doubted  the  evil  one 
was  drawing  her  to  her  perdition.     He  fell  on  his  knees. 
"  Exorcize  vos.   In  nomine  beata?  MariaB,  exorcize  vos." 
While  he  was  shrieking  his  incantations  in  extremity 
of  terror,  to  his  infinite  relief  he  heard  the  spectre  utter 
a  feeble  cry  of  fear.     To  find  that  hell  had  also  its  little 
weaknesses  was  encouraging.     He  redoubled  his  exor- 
cisms, and  presently  he  saw  the  shape  kneeling  at  Mar- 
garet's knees,  and  heard  it  praying  piteously  for  mercy. 
Poor  little  spectre !     It  took  Margaret  for  the  ill  spirit 
of  the  haunted  tower,  come  flying  out  on  it — to  damn  it. 

Kate  and  Giles  soon  reached  the  haunted  tower. 
Judge  their  surprise  when  they  found  a  new  rope  dang- 
ling from  the  prisoner's  window  to  the  ground. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  the  inferior  intelligence  taking 
facts  as  they  came.  "  Our  Gerard  has  come  down  this 
rope.  He  has  got  clear.  Up  I  go,  and  see." 

"  No,  Giles,  no !"  said  the  superior  intelligence  blind- 
ed by  prejudice.  "  See  you  not  this  is  glamour.  This 
rope  is  a  line  the  evil  one  casts  out  to  wile  you  to  de- 
struction. He  knows  the  weaknesses  of  all  our  hearts ; 
he  has  seen  how  fond  you  are  of  going  up  things.  Where 
should  our  Gerard  procure  a  rope  ?  how  fasten  it  in  the 
very  sky  like  that?  It  is  not  in  nature.  Holy  saints 
protect  us  this  night,  for  hell  is  abroad." 

"Stuff!"  said  the  dwarf:  "the  way  to  hell  is  down, 
and  this  rope  leads  up.  I  never  had  the  luck  to  go  up 
such  a  long  rope.  It  may  be  years  ere  I  fall  in  with  such 
a  long  rope  all  ready  fastened  for  me.  As  well  be  knock- 
ed on  the  head  at  once  as  never  know  enjoyment." 

And  he  sprung  on  to  the  rope  with  a  cry  of  delight, 
as  a  cat  jumps  with  a  mew  on  a  table  where  fish  is.  All 
the  gymnast  was  on  fire ;  and  the  only  concession  Kate 
could  gain  from  him  was  permission  to  fasten  the  lantern 
on  his  neck  first. 


110  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  A  light  scares  the  ill  spirits,"  said  she. 

And  so,  with  his  huge  arms,  and  legs  like  feathers, 
Giles  went  up  the  rope  faster  than  his  brother  came  down 
it.  The  light  at  the  nape  of  his  neck  made  a  glow-worm 
of  him.  His  sister  watched  his  progress  with  trembling 
anxiety.  Suddenly  a  female  figure  started  out  of  the 
solid  masonry,  and  came  flying  at  her  with  more  than 
mortal  velocity. 

Kate  uttered  a  feeble  cry.  It  was  all  she  could,  for 
her  tongue  clove  to  her  palate  with  terror.  Then  she 
dropped  her  crutches,  and  sank  upon  her  knees,  hiding  her 
face  and  moaning : 

"  Take  my  body,  but  spare  my  soul !"  etc. 

Margaret  (panting).  "  Why  it  is  a  woman !" 

Kate  (quivering).  "  Why  it  is  a  woman !" 

Margaret.  "  How  you  frightened  me." 

Kate.  "I  am  frightened  enough  myself.  Oh!  oh! 
oh!" 

"  This  is  strange.  But  the  fiery-headed  thing !  Yet 
it  was  with  you,  and  you  are  harmless.  But  why  are 
you  here  at  this  time  of  night  ?" 

"  Nay,  why  are  YOU  ?" 

"  Perhaps  we  are  on  the  same  errand  ?  Ah !  you  are 
his  good  sister,  Kate." 

"  And  you  are  Margaret  Brandt." 

"Yes." 

"  All  the  better.  You  love  him :  you  are  here.  Then 
Giles  was  right.  He  has  escaped." 

Gerard  came  forward,  and  put  the  question  at  rest. 
But  all  farther  explanation  was  cut  short  by  a  horrible 
unearthly  cry,  like  a  sepulchre  exulting  aloud : 

" PABCHMENT !  PARCHMENT!  PARCHMENT!" 

At  each  repetition  it  rose  in  intensity.  They  looked 
up,  and  there  was  the  dwarf  with  his  hands  full  of  parch- 
ments, and  his  face  lighted  with  fiendish  joy,  and  lurid 
with  diabolical  fire.  The  h'ght  being  at  his  neck,  a  more 
infernal  "  transparency"  never  startled  mortal  eye.  With 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  Ill 

the  word  the  awful  imp  hurled  the  parchment  down  at 
the  astonished  heads  below.  Down  came  the  records, 
like  wounded  wild  ducks,  some  collapsed,  others  flutter- 
ing, and  others  spread  out  and  wheeling  slowly  down  in 
airy  circles.  They  had  hardly  settled,  when  again  the 
sepulchral  roar  was  heard :  "  Parchment !  Parchment !" 
and  down  pattered  and  sailed  another  flock  of  documents 
— another  followed:  they  whitened  the  grass.  Finally, 
the  fire-headed  imp,  with  his  light  body  and  horny  hands, 
slid  down  the  rope  like  a  falling  star,  and  (business  be- 
fore sentiment)  proposed  to  Gerard  an  immediate  settle- 
ment for  the  merchandise  he  had  just  delivered. 

"  Hush !"  said  Gerard ;  "  you  speak  too  loud.     Gather 
them  up  and  follow  us  to  a  safer  place  than  this." 
"  Will  you  not  come  home  with  me,  Gerard  ?" 
"  I  have  no  home." 

"  You  shall  not  say  so,  Gerard.  Who  is  more  welcome 
than  you  will  be,  after  this  cruel  wrong,  to  your  father's 
house  ?" 

"Father?  I  have  no  father,"  said  Gerard,  sternly. 
"He  that  was  my  father  is  turned  my  jailer.  I  have 
escaped  from  his  hands ;  I  will  never  come  within  their 
reach  again." 

"  An  enemy  did  this,  and  not  our  father,"  said  Kate. 
And  she  told  him  what  she  had  overheard  Cornells 
and  Sybrandt  say.     But  the  injury  was  too  recent  to  be 
soothed.    Gerard  showed  a  bitterness  of  indignation  he 
had  hitherto  seemed  incapable  of. 

"Cornells  and  Sybrandt  are  two  ill  curs  that  have 
shown  me  their  teeth  and  their  heart  a  long  while ;  but 
they  could  do  no  more.  My  father  it  is  that  gave  the 
Burgomaster  authority,  or  he  durst  not  have  laid  a  finger 
on  me,  that  am  a  free  burgher  of  this  town.  So  be  it, 
then.  I  was  his  son — I  am  his  prisoner.  He  has  played 
his  part — I  shall  play  mine.  Farewell  the  town  where  I 
was  born  and  lived  honestly,  and  was  put  in  prison. 
While  there  is  another  town  left  in  creation,  I'll  never 
trouble  you  again,  Tergou." 


112  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Oh,  Gerard  I  Gerard !" 

Margaret  whispered  her :  u  Do  not  gainsay  him  now. 
Give  his  choler  tune  to  cool !" 

Kate  turned  quickly  toward  her.  "Let  me  look  at 
your  face !"  The  inspection  was  favorable,  it  seemed,  for 
she  whispered:  "It  is  a  comely  face,  and  no  mischief- 
maker's." 

"  Fear  me  not,"  said  Margaret,  in  the  same  tone.  "  I 
could  not  be  happy  without  your  love  as  well  as  Ge- 
rard's." 

"  These  are  comfortable  words,"  sobbed  Kate.  Then, 
looking  up,  she  said,  "  I  little  thought  to  like  you  so  well. 
My  heart  is  willing,  but  my  infirmity  will  not  let  me  em- 
brace you." 

At  this  point  Margaret  turned  gently  round  to  Ge- 
rard's sister,  and  kissed  her  lovingly. 

"  Often  he  has  spoken  of  you  to  me,  Kate,  and  often  I 
longed  for  this." 

"  You,  too,  Gerard,"  said  Kate,  "  kiss  me  ere  you  go, 
for  my  heart  lies  heavy  at  parting  with  you  this  night." 

Gerard  kissed  her,  and  she  went  on  her  crutches  home. 
The  last  thing  they  heard  of  her  was  a  little  patient  sigh. 
Then  the  tears  came  and  stood  thick  in  Margaret's  eyes ; 
but  Gerard  was  a  man,  and  noticed  it  not. 

As  they  turned  to  go  to  Sevenbergen  the  dwarf  nudged 
Gerard  with  his  bundle  of  parchments,  and  sought  re- 
muneration. 

Margaret  dissuaded  Gerard.  "  Why  take  what  is  not 
ours  ?" 

"  Oh !  spoil  an  enemy  how  you  can." 

"  But  may  they  not  make  this  a  handle  for  fresh  vio- 
lence?" 

"  How  can  they  ?  Think  you  I  shall  stay  in  Tergou 
after  this  ?  The  Burgomaster  robbed  me  of  my  liberty ; 
I  would  take  his  life  for  it  if  I  could." 

"  Oh  fie,  Gerard !" 

"What?    Is  life  worth  more  than  liberty?    Well, I 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  113 

cun't  take  his  life,  so  I  take  the  first  thing  that  comes  to 
hand." 

He  gave  Giles  a  few  small  coins,  with  which  the  urchin 
was  gladdened,  and  shuffled  after  his  sister.  Margaret 
and  Gerard  were  speedily  joined  by  Martin,  and  away  to 
Sevenbergen. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GHTSBRECHT  VAX  SWIETEN  kept  the  key  of  Gerard's 
prison  in  his  pouch.  He  waited  till  ten  of  the  clock  ere 
he  visited  him ;  for  he  said  to  himself,  "  A  little  hunger 
sometimes  does  well ;  it  breaks  them."  At  ten  he  crept 
up  the  stairs  with  a  loaf  and  pitcher,  followed  by  his 
trusty  servant  well  armed.  Ghysbrecht  listened  at  the 
door.  There  was  no  sound  inside.  A  grim  smile  stole 
over  his  features.  "By  this  time  he  will  be  as  down- 
hearted as  Albert  Koestein  was,"  thought  he.  He  open- 
ed the  door. 

No  Gerard. 

Ghysbrecht  stood  stupefied. 

Although  his  face  was  not  visible,  his  body  seemed  to 
lose  all  motion  in  so  peculiar  a  way,  and  then  after  a  lit- 
tle he  fell  a  trembling  so,  that  the  servant  behind  him 
saw  there  was  something  amiss,  and  crept  close  to  him 
and  peeped  over  his  shoulder.  At  sight  of  the  empty 
cell  and  the  rope,  and  iron  bar,  he  uttered  a  loud  excla- 
mation of  wonder :  but  his  surprise  doubled  when  his  mas- 
ter, disregarding  all  else,  suddenly  flung  himself  on  his 
knees  before  the  empty  chest,  and  felt  wildly  all  over  it 
with  quivering  hands,  as  if  unwilling  to  trust  his  eyes  in 
a  matter  so  important. 

The  servant  gazed  at  him  in  utter  bewilderment. 
"  Why,  master,  what  is  the  matter  ?'y 

Ghysbrecht's  pale  lips  worked  as  if  he  was  going  to 
answer ;  but  they  uttered  no  sound :  his  hands  fell  by 
his  side,  and  he  stared  into  the  chest. 


114  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Why,  master,  what  avails  glaring  into  that  empty 
box  ?  He  is  not  there.  See  here !  Note  the  cunning 
of  the  young  rogue ;  he  hath  taken  out  the  bar,  and  — " 

"GONE!  GONE!  GONE!" 

"  Gone  ?  What  is  gone  ?  Holy  saints !  he  is  planet 
struck." 

"  STOP  THIEF !"  shrieked  Ghysbrecht,  and  sudden- 
ly turned  on  his  servant  and  collared  him,  and  shook  him 
with  rage.  "  D'ye  stand  there,  knave,  and  see  your  mas- 
ter robbed  ?  Run !  fly !  A  hundred  crowns  to  him  that 
finds  it  me  again.  No,  no !  'tis  in  vain.  Oh,  fool !  fool ! 
to  leave  that  in  the  same  room  with  him.  But  none  ever 
found  the  secret  spring  before.  None  ever  would  but 
he.  It  was  to  be.  It  is  to  be.  Lost !  lost !"  And  his 
years  and  infirmity  now  gained  the  better  of  his  short- 
lived phrensy,  and  he  sank  on-  the  chest  muttering  "  lost ! 
lost !" 

"  What  is  lost,  master  ?"  said  the  servant  kindly. 

"  House  and  lands  and  good  name :"  groaned  Ghys- 
brecht, and  wrung  his  hands  feebly. 

"  What  ?"  cried  the  servant. 

This  emphatic  word  and  the  tone  of  eager  curiosity 
struck  on  Ghysbrecht's  ear,  and  revived  his  natural  cun- 
ning. 

"  I  have  lost  the  town  records,"  stammered  he,  and  he 
looked  askant  at  the  man  like  a  fox  caught  near  a  hen- 
roost. 

"Oh, is  that  all?" 

"Is't  not  enough?  What  will  the  burghers  say  to 
me?  What  will  the  burgh  do?"  Then  he  suddenly 
burst  out  again,  "  A  hundred  crowns  to  him  who  shall 
recover  them ;  all,  mind,  all  that  were  in  this  box.  If 
one  be  missing,  I  give  nothing." 

"  "Pis  a  bargain,  master :  the  hundred  crowns  are  in 
my  pouch.  See  you  not  that  where  Gerard  Gerards- 
soen  is,  there  are  the  pieces  of  sheepskin  you  rate  so 
high  ?" 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  115 

"  That  is  true ;  that  is  true ;  good  Dierich :  good  faith- 
ful Dierich !  All,  mind,  all,  that  were  in  the  chest." 

"  Master,  I  will  take  the  constables  to  Gerard's  house 
and  seize  him  for  the  theft." 

"  The  theft  ?  ay !  good !  very  good !  .It  is  theft.  I 
forgot  that.  So  as  he  is  a  thief  now,  we  will  put  him  in 
the  dungeons  below :  where  the  toads  are  and  the  rats. 
Dierich,  that  man  must  never  see  daylight  again.  "Tis 
his  own  fault.  He  must  be  prying.  Quick,  quick !  ere 
he  has  time  to  talk,  you  know,  time  to  talk." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Dierich  Brower  and  four  con- 
stables entered  the  hosier's  house  and  demanded  young 
Gerard  of  the  panic-stricken  Catherine. 

"  Alas !  what  has  he  done  now  ?"  cried  she :  "  that 
boy  will  break  my  heart." 

"  Nay,  dame,  but  a  trick  of  youth,"  said  Dierich.  "  He 
hath  but  made  off  with  certain  skins  of  parchment,  in  a 
frolic  doubtless;  but  the  Burgomaster  is  answerable  to 
the  burgh  for  their  safe  keeping,  so  he  is  in  care  about 
them:  as  for  the  youth,  he  will  doubtless  be  quit  for  a 
reprimand." 

This  smooth  speech  completely  imposed  on  Catherine ; 
but  her  daughter  was  more  suspicious,  and  that  suspicion 
was  strengthened  by  the  disproportionate  anger  and  dis- 
appointment Dierich  showed  the  moment  he  learned 
Gerard  was  not  at  home — had  not  been  at  home  that 
night. 

"  Come  away  then,"  said  he  roughly.  "  We  are  wast- 
ing time."  He  added,  vehemently,  "  I'll  find  him  if  he  is 
above  ground." 

Affection  sharpens  the  wits,  and  often  it  has  made  an 
innocent  person  more  than  a  match  for  the  wily.  As 
Dierich  was  going  out,  Kate  made  him  a  signal  she 
would  speak  with  him  privately.  He  bade  his  men  go 
on,  and  waited  outside  the  door.  She  joined  him. 

"  Hush !"  said  she,  "  my  mother  knows  not.  Gerard 
has  left  Tergou." 


116  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  How !" 

"  I  saw  him  last  night." 

"  Ay  ?     Where  ?"  cried  Dierich,  eagerly. 

"  At  the  foot  of  the  haunted  tower." 

"  How  did  he  get  the  rope  ?" 

"  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know ;  my  brother  Gerard 
bade  me  there  farewell,  and  he  is  many  leagues  from 
Tergou  ere  this.  The  town,  you  know,  was  always  un- 
worthy of  him,  and  when  it  imprisoned  him  he  vowed 
never  to  set  foot  in  it  again.  Let  the  Burgomaster  be 
content,  then.  He  has  imprisoned  him,  and  he  has  driven 
him  from  his  birth-place  and  from  his  native  land.  What 
need  now  to  rob  him  and  us  of  our  good  name  ?" 

This  might  at  another  moment  have  struck  Dierich  as 
good  sense ;  but  he  was  too  mortified  at  this  escape  of 
Gerard  and  the  loss  of  a  hundred  crowns. 

"  What  need  had  he  to  steal  ?"  retorted  he,  bitterly. 

"  Gerard  stole  not  the  trash :  he  but  took  it  to  spite 
the  Burgomaster,  who  stole  his  liberty ;  but  he  shaU  an- 
swer to  the  Duke  for  it,  he  shah1.  Look  in  the  nearest 
brook  or  sty,  and  maybe  you  shah1  find  these  skins  of 
parchment  you  keep  such  a  coil  about." 

"  Think  ye  so,  mistress  ?  think  ye  so  ?"  And  Dierich's 
eyes  flashed.  "  Mayhap  you  know  'tis  so." 

"  This  I  know,  that  Gerard  is  too  good  to  steal,  and  too 
wise  to  load  himself  with  rubbish,  going  a  journey." 

"Give  you  good-day,  then,"  said  Dierich,  sharply. 
"  The  sheepskin  you  scorn,  I  value  it  more  than  the  skin 
of  any  he  in  Tergou." 

And  he  went  off  hastily  on  a  false  scent. 

Kate  returned  into  the  house  and  drew  Giles  aside. 

"  Giles,  my  heart  misgives  me ;  breathe  not  to  a  soul 
what  I  say  to  you.  I  have  told  Dirk  Brower  that  Gerard 
is  out  of  Holland,  but  much  I  doubt  he  is  not  a  league 
from  Tergou." 

"  Why,  where  is  he,  then  ?" 

"  Where  should  he  be,  but  with  her  he  loves  ?     But 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  117 

if  so  he  must  not  loiter.  These  be  deep  and  dark  and 
wicked  men  that  seek  him.  Giles,  I  see  that  in  Dirk 
Brewer's  eye  makes  me  tremble.  Oh !  why  can  not  I 
fly  to  Sevenbergen,  and_bid  him  away?  Why  am  I  not 
lusty  and  active  like  other  girls?  God  forgive  me  for 
fretting  at  His  will ;  but  I  never  felt  till  now  what  it  is 
to  be  lame  and, weak  and  useless.  But  you  are  strong, 
dear  Giles,"  added  she  coaxingly — "  you  are  very  strong." 

"Yes,  I  am  strong!"  thundered  Perpusillus;  then, 
catching  sight  of  her  meaning, "  but  I  hate  to  go  on  foot," 
he  added,  sulkily. 

"  Alas !  alas !  who  will  help  me  if  you  will  not  ?  Dear 
Giles,  do  you  not  love  Gerard  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  like  him  best  of  the  lot.  I'll  go  to  Seven- 
bergen on  Peter  Buysken  his  mule.  Ask  you  him,  for 
he  won't  lend  her  me." 

Kate  remonstrated.  The  whole  town  would  follow 
him.  It  would  be  known  whither  he  was  gone,  and 
Gerard  be  in  worse  danger  than  before. 

Giles  parried  this  by  promising  to  ride  out  of  the  town 
the  opposite  way,  and  not  turn  the  mule's  head  toward 
Sevenbergen  till  he  had  got  rid  of  the  curious. 

Kate  then  assented,  and  borrowed  the  mule.  She 
charged  Giles  with  a  short  but  meaning  message,  and 
made  him  repeat  it  after  her,  over  and  over,  till  he  could 
say  it  word  for  word. 

Giles  started  on  the  mule,  and  little  Kate  retired,  and 
did  the  last  thing  now  in  her  power  for  her  beloved 
brother :  prayed  on  her  knees  long  and  earnestly  for  his 
safety. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

GEKARD  and  Margaret  went  gayly  to  Sevenbergen  in 
the  first  flush  of  recovered  liberty,  and  successful  adven- 
ture. But  these  soon  yielded  to  sadder  thoughts.  Nei- 


118  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

ther  of  them  attached  any  importance  to  the  abstraction 
of  the  sheepskins :  but  Gerard  was  an  escaped  prisoner, 
and  liable  to  be  retaken  and  perhaps  punished ;  and  there- 
fore he  and  Margaret  would  have  to  part  for  a  time. 
Moreover  he  had  conceived  a  hatred  to  his  native  place. 
Margaret  wished  him  to  leave  the  country  for  a  while, 
but  at  the  thought  of  his  going  to  Italy  her  heart  faint- 
ed. Gerard,  on  the  contrary,  was  reconciled  to  leaving 
Margaret  only  by  his  desire  to  visit  Italy,  and  his  strong 
conviction  that  there  he  should  earn  money  and  reputa- 
tion, and  remove  every  obstacle  to  their  marriage.  He 
had  already  told  her  all  that  the  demoiselle  Van  Eyck 
had  said  to  him.  He  repeated  it,  and  reminded  Margaret 
that  the  gold  pieces  were  only  given  him  to  go  to  Italy 
with.  The  journey  to  Italy  was  clearly  for  Gerard's 
interest.  He  was  a  craftsman  and  an  artist,  lost  in  this 
boorish  place.  In  Italy  they  would  know  how  to  value 
him.  On  this  ground,  above  all,  the  unselfish  girl  gave 
her  consent ;  but  many  tender  tears  came  with  it,  and  at 
that  Gerard,  young  and  loving  as  herself,  cried  bitterly 
with  her,  and  often  they  asked  one  another  what  they  had 
done,  that  so  many  different  persons  should  be  their  ene- 
mies, and  combine,  as  it  seemed,  to  part  them. 

They  sat  hand  in  hand  till  midnight,  now  deploring 
their  hard  fate,  now  drawing  bright  and  hopeful  pictures 
of  the  future,  in  the  midst  of  which  Margaret's  tears 
would  suddenly  flow,  and  then  poor  Gerard's  eloquence 
would  die  away  in  a  sigh. 

The  morning  found  them  resigned  to  part,  but  neither 
had  the  courage  to  say  when ;  and  much  I  doubt  wheth- 
er the  hour  of  parting  ever  would  have  struck. 

But  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  Giles,  who  had  made 
a  circuit  of  many  miles  to  avoid  suspicion,  rode  up  to  the 
door.  They  both  ran  out  to  him,  eager  with  curiosity. 
He  soon  turned  that  light  feeling  to  dismay. 

"  Brother  Gerard,"  cried  he,  in  his  tremendous  tones, 
"  Kate  bids  you  run  for  your  life.  They  charge  you  with 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  119 

theft ;  you  have  given  them  a  handle.  Think  not  to  ex- 
plain. Hope  not  for  justice  in  Tergou !  The  parchments 
you  took  they  are  but  a  blind.  She  hath  seen  your  death 
in  the  men's  eyes :  a  price  is  on  your  head.  Fly !  For 
Margaret's  sake  and  all  who  love  you,  loiter  not  life  away, 
but  fly  1" 

It  was  a  thunder-clap,  and  left  two  pale  faces  looking 
at  one  another,  awestruck. 

Then  Giles,  who  had  hitherto  but  uttered  by  rote  what 
Catherine  bade  him,  put  in  a  word  of  his  own. 

"  All  the  constables  were  at  our  house  after  you,  and 
so  was  Dirk  Brower.  Kate  is  wise,  Gerard,  Best  give 
ear  to  her  rede,  and  fly." 

"  Oh,  yes !  Gerard,"  cried  Margaret,  wildly.  "  Fly  on 
the  instant.  Ah !  those  parchments ;  my  mind  misgave 
me :  why  did  I  let  you  take  them  ?" 

"  Margaret,  they  are  but  a  blind :  Giles  says  so ;  no 
matter,  the  old  caitiff  shall  never  see  them  again ;  I  will 
not  go  till  I  have  hidden  his  treasure  where  he  shall  nev- 
er find  it."  Gerard  then,  after  thanking  Giles  warmly, 
bade  him  farewell,  and  told  him  to  go  back,  and  tell  Kate 
he  was  gone.  "  For  I  shall  be  gone  ere  you  reach  home," 
said  he.  He  shouted  for  Martin  ;  and  told  him  what  had 
happened,  and  begged  him  to  go  a  little  way  toward 
Tergou,  and  watch  the  road. 

"  Ay !"  said  Martin,  "  and  if  I  see  Dirk  Brower,  or  any 
of  his  men,  I  will  shoot  an  arrow  into  the  oak-tree  that 
is  in  our  garden ;  and  on  that  you  must  run  into  the  for- 
est hard  by,  and  meet  me  at  the  weird  hunter's  spring. 
Then  I  will  guide  you  through  the  wood." 

Surprise  thus  provided  against,  Gerard  breathed  again. 
He  went  with  Margaret,  and  while  she  watched  the  oak- 
tree  tremblingly,  fearing  every  moment  to  see  an  arrow 
strike  among  the  branches,  Gerard  dug  a  deep  hole  to 
bury  the  parchments  in. 

He  threw  them  in,  one  by  one.  They  were  nearly  all 
charters  and  records  of  the  burgh ;  but  one  appeared  to^ 


120  A  GOOD  FIGHT. 

be  a  private  deed  between  Floris  Brandt,  father  of  Peter, 
and  Ghysbrecht. 

"  Why  this  is  as  much  yours  as  his,"  said  Gerard.  "  I 
will  read  this." 

"Oh,  not  now,  Gerard,  not  now,"  cried  Margaret. 
"Every  moment  you  lose  fills  me  with  fear;  and  see, 
large  drops  of  rain  are  beginning  to  fall,  and  the  clouds 
lower." 

Gerard  yielded  to  this  remonstrance ;  but  he  put  the 
deed  into  his  bosom,  and  threw  the  earth  in  over  the 
others,  and  stamped  it  down.  While  thus  employed 
there  came  a  flash  of  lightning  followed  by  a  peal  of  dis- 
tant thunder,  and  the  rain  came  down  heavily,  Margaret 
and  Gerard  ran  into  the  house,  whither  they  were  speed- 
ily followed  by  Martin. 

"  The  road  is  clear,"  said  he,  "  and  a  heavy  storm  com- 
ing on." 

His  words  proved  true.  The  thunder  came  nearer  and 
nearer  till  it  crashed  overhead :  the  flashes  followed  one 
another  close,  like  the  strokes  of  a  whip,  and  the  rain  fell 
in  torrents.  Margaret  hid  her  face  not  to  see  the  light- 
ning. On  this,  Gerard  put  up  the  rough  shutter,  and 
lighted  a  candle.  The  lovers  consulted  together,  and 
Gerard  blessed  the  storm  that  gave  him  a  few  hours 
more  with  Margaret.  The  sun  set  unperceived,  and  still 
the  thunder  pealed,  and  the  lightning  flashed,  and  the 
ram  poured.  Supper  was  set ;  but  Gerard  and  Marga- 
ret could  not  eat:  the  thought  that  this  was  the  last 
time  they  should  sup  together,  choked  them.  The  storm 
lulled  a  little.  Peter  retired  to  rest.  But  Gerard  was 
to  go  at  peep  of  day,  and  neither  he  nor  Margaret  could 
afford  to  lose  an  hour  in  sleep.  Martin  sat  up  a  while, 
too ;  for  he  was  fitting  a  new  string  to  his  bow,  a  matter 
in  which  he  was  very  nice. 

The  lovers  murmured  their  sorrows  and  their  love  be- 
side him. 

Suddenly  the  old  man  held  up  his  hand  to  them  to  be 
silent. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  123 

They  were  quiet  and  listened,  and  heard  nothing.  But 
the  next  moment  a  footstep  crackled  faintly  upon  the 
autumn  leaves  that  lay  strewn  in  the  garden  at  the  back 
door  of  the  house.  To  those  who  had  nothing  to  fear 
such  a  step  would  have  said  nothing ;  but  to  those  who 
had  enemies  it  was  terrible.  For  it  was  a  foot  trying  to 
be  noiseless. 

Martin  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  string,  and  hastily  blew 
out  the  candle.  At  this  moment,  to  their  horror,  they 
heard  more  than  one  footstep  approach  the  other  door 
of  the  cottage,  not  quite  so  noiselessly  as  the  other,  but 
very  stealthily — and  then  a  dead  pause.  Their  blood  al- 
most froze  in  their  veins. 

"  Oh,  Kate !  oh,  Kate !  She  said,  fly  on  the  instant !" 
And  Margaret  moaned  and  wrung  her  hands  in  anguish 
and  terror  and  wild  remorse. 

"  Hush,  girl !"  said  Martin,  in  a  stern  whisper ;  and 
even  at  that  moment  a  heavy  knock  fell  on  the  door. 

As  if  this  had  been  a  concerted  signal,  the  back  door 
was  struck  as  rudely  the  next  instant.  They  were  hem- 
med in.  But  at  these  alarming  sounds  Margaret  seemed 
to  recover  some  share  of  self-possession.  She  whispered, 
"  Say  be  was  here,  but  is  gone."  And  with  this  she 
seized  Gerard  and  almost  dragged  him  up  the  rude  steps 
that  led  to  her  father's  sleeping-room.  Her  own  lay  next 
beyond  it. 

The  blows  on  the  door  were  repeated. 

"  Who  knocks  at  this  hour  ?" 

"  Open,  and  you  will  see !" 

"  I  open  not  to  thieves — honest  men  are  all  abed  now.*' 

"  Open  to  the  law,  Martin  Wittenhaagen,  or  you  shall 
rue  it." 

"  Why  that  is  Dirk  Brower's  voice,  I  trow.  What 
make  you  so  far  from  Tergou  ?" 

"  Open,  and  you  will  know." 

Martin  drew  the  bolt,  and  in  rushed  Dierich  and  four 
more.  They  let  in  their  companion  who  was  at  the  back 
door. 


124  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Now,  Martin,  where  is  Gerard  Gerardssoen  ?" 

"  Gerard  Gerardssoen  ?     Why  he  was  here  but  now." 

"Was  here?"  Dierich's  countenance  fell.  "And 
where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  They  say  he  is  gone  to  Italy.  Why  ?  What  is  to 
do?" 

"  No  matter.  When  did  he  go  ?  Tell  me  not  that  he 
went  in  such  a  storm  as  this !" 

"  Here  is  a  coil  about  Gerard  Gerardssoen,"  said  Mar- 
tin contemptuously.  Then  he  lighted  the  candle,  and, 
seating  himself  coolly  by  the  fire,  proceeded  to  whip 
some  fine  silk  round  his  bow-string  at  the  place  where 
the  nick  of  the  arrow  frets  it.  "  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he, 
carelessly.  "  Do  you  know  his  brother  Giles — a  little 
misbegotten  imp,  ah1  head  and  arms  ?  Well,  he  came 
tearing  over  here  on  a  mule,  and  bawled  out  something. 
I  was  too  far  off  to  hear  the  creature's  words,  but  I  heard 
its  noise.  Any  way,  he  started  Gerard.  For  as  soon  as 
he  was  gone,  there  was  such  crying  and  kissing,  and  then 
Gerard  went  away.  They  do  tell  me  he  is  gone  to  Italy 
— mayhap  you  know  where  that  is,  for  I  don't." 

Dierich's  countenance  fell  lower  and  lower  at  this  ac- 
count. There  was  no  flaw  in  it.  A  cunninger  aaan  than 
Martin  would,  perhaps,  have  told  a  He  too  many,  and 
raised  suspicion.  But  Martin  did  his  task  well.  He  only 
told  the  one  falsehood  he  was  bid  to  tell,  and  of  his  own 
head  invented  nothing. 

"  Mates,"  said  Dierich,  "  I  doubt  he  speaks  sooth.  I 
told  the  Burgomaster  how  'twould  be.  He  met  the 
dwarf  galloping  Peter  Buysken's  mule  from  Sevenberg- 
en.  '  They  have  sent  that  imp  to  Gerard,'  says  he,  *  so, 
then,  Gerard  is  at  Sevenbergen.'  *  Ah,  master !'  says  I, 
'  'tis  too  late  now.  We  should  have  thought  of  Seven- 
bergen before,  instead  of  wasting  our  time  hunting  all 
the  odd  corners  of  Tergou  for  those  cursed  parchments 
that  we  shall  never  find  till  we  find  the  man  that  took 
'em.  If  he  was  at  Sevenbergen,'  quoth  I,  'and  they 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  125 

have  sent  the  dwarf  to  him,  it  must  have  been  to  warn 
him  we  are  after  him.  He  is  leagues  away  by  now,' 
quoth  I.  '  Confound  that  chalk-faced  girl !  she  has  out- 
witted us  bearded  men :'  and  so  I  told  the  Burgomaster, 
but  he  would  not  hear  reason.  A  wet  jerkin  apiece, 
that  is  all  we  shall  get,  mates,  by  this  job." 

Martin  grinned  coolly  in  Dierich's  face. 

"However,"  added  the  latter,  "just  to  content  the 
Burgomaster,  we  will  search  the  house." 

Martin  turned  grave  directly. 

This  change  of  countenance  did  not  escape  Dierich. 
He  reflected  a  moment. 

"  Watch  outside  two  of  you,  one  on  each  side  of  the 
house,  that  no  one  jump  from  the  upper  windows.  The 
rest  come  with  me." 

And  he  took  the  candle  and  mounted  the  stairs,  fol- 
lowed by  three  of  his  comrades. 

Martin  was  left  alone. 

The  stout  soldier  hung  his  head.  All  had  gone  so  well 
at  first :  and  now  this  fatal  turn !  Suddenly  it  occurred 
to  him  that  all  was  not  yet  lost.  Gerard  must  be  either 
in  Peter's  room  or  Mai'garet's ;  they  were  not  so  very 
high  from  the  ground.  Gerard  would  leap  out.  Dierich 
had  left  a  man  below ;  but  what  then  ?  For  half  a 
minute  Gerard  and  he  would  be  two  to  one,  and  in  that 
brief  space  what  might  not  be  done  ? 

Martin  then  held  the  back  door  ajar  and  watched. 
The  light  was  in  Peter's  room.  "  Curse  the  fool !"  said 
he,  "  is  he  going  to  let  them  take  him  like  a  girl  ?" 

The  light  passed  now  into  Margaret's  bedroom.  Still 
no  window  was  opened.  Had  Gerard  intended  to  escape 
that  way  he  would  not  have  waited  till  the  men  were  in 
the  room.  Martin  saw  that  at  once,  and  left  the  door, 
and  came  to  the  foot-stair  and  listened.  He  began  to 
think  Gerard  must  have  escaped  by  the  window  while 
all  the  men  were  in  the  house.  The  longer  the  silence 
continued  the  stronger  grew  this  conviction.  But  it  was 
suddenly  and  rudely  dissipated. 


126  A   GOOD   TIGHT. 

Piercing  shrieks  issued  from  the  inner  bedroom — Mar- 
garet's. 

"  They  have  taken  him,"  groaned  Martin ;  "  they  have 
got  him." 

It  flashed  through  Martin's  mind  in  one  moment  that 
if  they  took  Gerard  away  his  life  was  not  worth  a  but- 
ton ;  and  that,  if  evil  befell  him,  Margaret's  heart  would 
break.  He  cast  his  eyes  wildly  round,  like  some  savage 
beast  seeking  an  escape,  and  in  a  twinkling  he  formed  a 
resolution  terribly  characteristic  of  those  iron  times  and 
of  a  soldier  driven  to  bay. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HE  stepped  to  each  door  in  turn,  and  imitating  Dirk 
Brewer's  voice,  said  sharply, "  Watch  the  window !"  He 
then  quietly  closed  and  bolted  both  doors.  He  then  took 
up  his  bow  and  six  arrows ;  one  he  fitted  to  his  string, 
the  others  he  put  into  his  quiver.  His  knife  he  placed 
upon  a  chair  behind  him,  the  hilt  toward  him ;  and  there 
he  waited  at  the  foot  of  the  stair  with  the  calm  determin- 
ation to  slay  those  four  men  or  be  slain  by  them.  Two, 
he  knew,  he  could  dispose  of  by  his  arrows,  ere  they 
could  get  near  him,  and  Gerard  and  he  must  take  their 
chance,  hand-to-hand,  with  the  remaining  pair.  Besides, 
he  had  seen  men  panic-stricken  by  a  sudden  attack  of 
this  sort.  Should  Brower  and  his  men  hesitate  but  an 
instant,  he  should  shoot  three  instead  of  two,  and  then 
the  odds  would  be  on  the  right  side. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  heavy  steps  sounded 
in  Margaret's  room,  and  came  nearer  and  nearer. 

The  light  also  approached,  and  voices. 

Martin's  heart,  stout  as  it  was,  beat  hard,  to  hear  men 
coming  thus  to  their  death,  and,  perhaps,  to  his ;  more 
likely  so  than  not ;  for  four  is  long  odds  in  a  battle-field 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  127 

of  ten  feet  square,  and  Gerard  might  be  bound,  perhaps, 
and  powerless  to  help.  But  this  man,  whom  we  have 
seen  shake  in  his  shoes  at  a  Giles-o'-lantern,  never  waver- 
ed in  this  awful  moment  of  real  danger,  but  stood  there, 
his  body  all  braced  for  combat  and  his  eye  glowing, 
equally  ready  to  take  life  and  lose  it.  Desperate  game ! 
to  win  which  was  exile  instant  and  for  life,  and  to  lose  it 
was  to  die  that  moment  upon  that  floor  he  stood  on. 

Dierich  Brower  and  his  men  found  Peter  in  his  first 
sleep.  They  opened  his  cupboards;  they  ran  their 
knives  into  an  alligator  he  had  nailed  to  his  wall ;  they 
looked  under  his  bed :  it  was  a  large  room,  and  apparent- 
ly full  of  hiding  places,  but  they  found  no  Gerard. 

Then  they  went  on  to  Margaret's  room,  and  the  very 
sight  of  it  was  discouraging — it  was  small  and  bare,  and 
not  a  cupboard  in  it ;  there  was,  however,  a  large  fire- 
place and  chimney.  Dierich's  eye  fell  on  these  directly. 
Here  they  found  the  beauty  of  Sevenbergen  sleeping  on 
an  old  chest,  not  a  foot  high,  and  no  attempt  made  to 
cover  it ;  but  the  sheets  were  snowy  white,  and  so  was 
Margaret's  own  linen.  And  there  she  lay,  looking  like  a 
lily  fallen  into  a  rut. 

Presently  she  awoke,  and  sat  up  in  the  bed,  like  one 
amazed  ;  then,  seeing  the  men,  began  to  scream  violent- 
ly, and  pray  for  mercy. 

She  made  Dierich  Brower  ashamed  of  his  errand. 

"Here  is  a  to-do,"  said  he,  a  little  confused.  "We 
are  not  going  to  hurt  you,  my  pretty  maid.  Lie  you 
still,  and  shut  your  eyes,  and  think  of  your  wedding- 
night,  while  I  look  up  this  chimney  to  see  if  Master  Ge- 
rard is  there." 

"  Gerard !  in  my  room  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?     They  say  that  you  and  he — " 

"  Cruel ;  you  know  they  have  driven  him  away  from 
me — driven  him  from  his  native  place.  This  is  a  blind. 
You  are  thieves ;  you  are  wicked  men ;  you  are  not  men 


128  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

of  Sevenbergen,  or  you  would  know  Margaret  Brandt 
better  than  to  look  for  her  lover  in  this  room  of  all  oth- 
ers in  the  world.  Oh,  brave !  Four  great  hulking  men 
to  come,  armed  to  the  teeth,  to  insult  one  poor,  honest 
girl !  The  women  that  live  in  your  own  houses  must  be 
naught,  or  you  would  respect  them  too  much  to  insult  a 
girl  of  good  character." 

"  There,  come  away,  before  we  hear  worse,"  said  Die- 
rich,  hastily.  "  He  is  not  in  the  chimney.  Plaster  will 
mend  what  a  cudgel  breaks ;  but  a  woman's  tongue  is  a 
double-edged  dagger,  and  a  girl  is  a  woman  with  her 
mother's  milk  still  in  her."  And  he  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 
"  I  told  the  Burgomaster  how  'twould  be." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WHEEE  is  the  woman  that  can  not  act  a  part  ?  Where 
is  she  who  will  not  do  it,  and  do  it  well,  to  save  the  man 
she  loves.  Nature  on  these  great  occasions  comes  to  the 
aid  of  the  simplest  of  the  sex,  and  teaches  her  to  throw 
dust  in  Solomon's  eyes.  The  men  had  no  sooner  retired 
than  Margaret  stepped  out  of  bed  and  opened  the  long 
chest  on  which  she  had  been  lying  down  hi  her  skirt  and 
petticoat  and  stockings,  and  night-dress  over  all;  and 
put  the  h'd,  bed-clothes  and  ah1,  against  the  wall ;  then 
glided  to  the  door  and  listened.  The  footsteps  died 
away  through  her  father's  room,  and  down  the  stairs. 

Now,  in  that  chest  there  was  a  peculiarity  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  a  stranger  to  detect.  A  part  of 
the  boarding  of  the  room  had  been  broken,  and  Gerard 
being  applied  to  to  make  it  look  neater,  and  being  short  of 
materials,  had  ingeniously  sawed  away  a  space  sufficient 
just  to  admit  Margaret's  soi-disant  bed,  and  with  the 
materials  thus  acquired  he  had  repaired  the  whole  room. 
As  for  the  bed  or  chest  it  really  rested  on  the  rafters  a 
foot  below  the  boards.  Consequently  it  was  full  two 
feet  deep,  though  it  looked  scarce  one. 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  129 

All  was  quiet.  Margaret  kneeled  and  gave  thanks  to 
Heaven.  Then  she  glided  from  the  door,  and  leaned 
over  the  empty  chest,  and  whispered  tenderly,  "  Gerard !" 

Gerard  did  not  reply. 

She  then  whispered,  a  little  louder,  "  Gerard,  all  is  safe, 
thank  Heaven !  You  may  rise ;  but,  oh !  be  cautious !" 

Gerard  made  no  reply. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder — "  Gerard !" 

No  reply. 

"Oh!  what  is  this?"  she  cried,  and  her  hands  ran 
wildly  over  his  face  and  his  bosom.  She  took  him  by 
the  shoulders ;  she  shook  him ;  she  lifted  him ;  but  he 
escaped  from  her  trembling  hands,  and  fell  back,  not  like 
a  man  but  like  a  body.  A  great  dread  fell  on  her.  The 
lid  had  been  down.  She  had  lain  upon  it.  The  men 
had  been  some  time  in  the  room.  With  all  the  strength 
of  phrensy,  she  tore  him  Out  of  the  chest.  She  bore  him 
in  her  arms  to  the  window.  She  dashed  the  window 
open.  The  sweet  air  came  in.  She  laid  him  in  it  and  in 
the  moonlight.  His  face  was  the  color  of  ashes,  his  body 
was  all  limp  and  motionless.  She  felt  his  heart.  Hor- 
ror !  It  was  as  still  as  the  rest !  Horror  of  horrors !  she 
had  stifled  him  with  her  own  body ! 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  mind  can  not  all  at  once  believe  so  great  and  sud- 
den and  strange  a  calamity.  Gerard,  who  had  got  alive 
into  the  chest  scarce  five  minutes  ago,  how  could  he  be 
dead? 

She  called  him  by  all  the  endearing  names  that  heart 
could  think,  or  tongue  could  frame.  She  kissed  him  and 
fondled  him  and  coaxed  him,  and  implored  him  to  speak 
to  her. 

No  answer  to  words  of  love,  such  as  she  had  never  ut- 
tered to  him  before,  nor  thought  she  could  utter.  Then 
F2 


130  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

the  poor  creature,  trembling  all  over,  began  to  say  over 
that  white  face  little  foolish  things  that  were  at  once 
terrible  and  pitiable. 

"  Oh,  Gerard !  I  am  very  sorry  you  are  dead !  I  am 
very  sorry  I  have  killed  you!  Forgive  me  for  not  let- 
ting the  men  take  you,  it  would  have  been  better  than 
this !  Oh,  Gerard !  I  am  very,  very  sorry  for  what  I  have 
done !"  Then  she  began  suddenly  to  rave.  "  No !  no ! 
such  things  can't  be,  or  there  is  no  God!  It  is  mon- 
strous! How  can  my  Gerard  be  dead?  How  can  I 
have  killed  my  Gerard  ?  I  love  him !  Oh,  God !  you 
know  how  I  love  him !  He  does  not.  I  never  told  him. 
If  he  knew  my  heart,  he  would  speak  to  me,  he  would 
not  be  so  deaf  to  his  poor  Margaret.  It  is  all  a  trick 
to  make  me  cry  out  and  betray  him ;  but,  no,  I  love  him 
too  well  for  that.  I'll  choke  first."  And  she  seized  her 
own  throat,  to  check  her  wild  desire  to  scream  in  her 
terror  and  anguish. 

"  If  he  would  but  say  one  word.  Oh,  Gerard !  don't 
die  without  a  word.  Have  mercy  on  me  and  scold  me ! 
but  speak  to  me :  if  you  are  angry  with  me,  scold  me ! 
curse  me !  I  deserve  it :  the  idiot  that  killed  the  man  she 
loved  better  than  herself.  Ah !  I  am  a  murderess.  The 
worst  in  all  the  world.  Help,  help !  I  have  murdered 
him.  Ah!  ah!  ah!  ah!  ah!" 

She  tore  her  hair,  and  uttered  shriek  after  shriek  so 
wild,  so  piercing,  they  fell  like  a  knell  upon  the  ears  of 
Dierich  Brower  and  his  men.  All  started  to  their  feet, 
and  looked  at  one  another. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MARTIN  WITTENHAAGEN,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  with  his  arrow  drawn  nearly  to  the  head,  and  his 
knife  behind  him,  was  struck  with  amazement,  to  see  the 
men  come  back  without  Gerard :  he  lowered  his  bow, 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  131 

and  looked  open-mouthed  at  them.  They,  for  their  part, 
were  equally  surprised  at  the  attitude  they  had  caught 
him  in. 

"Why,  mates,  was  the  old  fellow  making  ready  to 
shoot  one  of  us  ?" 

"  Stuff!"  said  Martin,  recovering  his  stolid  composure, 
"  I  was  but  trying  my  new  string.  There,  I'll  unstring 
my  bow,  if  you  think  that." 

"  Humph !"  said  Dierich,  suspiciously,  "  there  is  some- 
thing more  in  you  than  I  understand :  put  a  log  on,  and 
let  us  dry  our  hides  a  bit,  ere  we  go." 

A  blazing  fire  v.-as  soon  made,  and  the  men  gathered 
round  it,  and  their  clothes  and  long  hair  were  soon  smok- 
ing from  the  cheerful  blaze.  Then  it  was  that  the  shrieks 
were  heard  in  Margaret's  room.  They  all  started  up,  and 
one  of  them  seized  the  candle,  and  ran  up  the  steps  that 
led  to  the  bedrooms. 

Martin  rose  hastily,  too,  and  being  confused  by  these 
sudden  screams,  and  apprehending  danger  from  the  man's 
curiosity,  tried  to  prevent  him  from  going  there. 

At  this  Dierich  threw  his  arms  round  him  from  be- 
hind, and  called  on  the  others  to  keep  him.  The  man 
that  had  the  candle  got  clear  away,  and  all  the  rest  fell 
on  Martin,  and  after  a  long  and  fierce  struggle,  in  the 
course  of  which  they  were  more  than  once  all  rolh'ng  on 
the  floor,  with  Martin  in  the  middle,  they  succeeded  in 
mastering  the  old  Samson,  and  binding  him  hand  and 
foot  with  a  rope  they  had  brought  for  Gerard. 

"  That  is  a  good  job,"  said  Dierich,  pointing ;  "  our 
lives  weren't  safe  while  this  old  fellow's  four  bones  were 
free.  He  makes  me  think  Gerard  is  hereabouts,  for  all 
we  can't  find  him.  Halloo,  mates!  Jorian  Ketel's  a 
long  time  in  that  girl's  bedroom." 

The  rude  laugh  caused  by  this  remark  had  hardly  sub- 
sided, when  hasty  footsteps  were  heard  running  along 
overhead. 

"  Oh !  here  he  comes,  at  last.  Well,  Jorian,  what  is 
to  do  now  ?" 


132  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

JOBIAN  KETEL  went  straight  to  Margaret's  room,  and 
there  he  found  the  man  he  had  been  in  search  of,  pale 
and  motionless,  his  head  in  Margaret's  lap,  and  she  kneel- 
ing over  him,  mute  now,  and  stricken  to  stone.  Her  eyes 
were  dilated,  yet  glazed,  and  she  neither  saw  the  light 
nor  heard  the  man,  nor  cared  for  any  thing  on  earth  but 
the  white  face  in  her  lap. 

Jorian  stood  awe-struck,  the  candle  shaking  in  his 
hand. 

Why,  where  was  he,  then,  all  the  time  ? 

Margaret  heeded  him  not.  Jorian  went  to  the  empty 
chest  and  inspected  it.  He  began  to  comprehend.  The 
girl's  dumb  and  frozen  despair  moved  him. 

"  This  is  a  sorry  sight,"  said  he :  "  it  is  a  black  night's 
work ;  all  for  a  few  skins !  Better  have  gone  with  us 
than  so.  She  is  past  answering  me,  poor  wench !  Stop 
— let  us  try." 

He  took  down  a  little  round  mirror,  no  bigger  than  his 
hand,  and  put  it  to  Gerard's  mouth  and  nostrils,  and  held 
it  there.  When  he  withdrew  it,  it  was  dull.  Jorian 
Ketel  gave  a  joyful  cry : 

"  THEEE  is  LIFE  IN  HIM,  GIRL  !" 

At  that  word,  it  was  as  if  a  statue  had  started  into  life 
and  passion.  Margaret  rose,  and  flung  her  arms  round 
Jorian's  neck. 

"  Oh,  bless  the  tongue  that  tells  me  so !"  and  she  kiss- 
ed the  great  rough  feUow  again  and  again,  eagerly,  al- 
most fiercely. 

"  There,  there !  let  us  lay  him  warm,"  said  Jorian ; 
and  in  a  moment  he  raised  Gerard,  and  laid  him  on  the 
bed-clothes.  Then  he  took  out  a  flask  he  carried,  and 
filled  his  hand  twice  with  Schiedamze,  and  flung  it  sharp- 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  133 

ly  each  time  in  Gerard's  face.  The  pungent  liquor  co- 
operated with  his  recovery — he  gave  a  faint,  sigh.  Oh, 
never  was  sound  so  joyful  to  human  ear !  She  flew  to- 
ward him,  but  then  stopped,  quivering  for  fear  she  should 
hurt  him.  She  had  lost  all  confidence  in  herself. 

"That  is  right — let  him  alone,"  said  Jorian;  "don't 
go  cuddling  him  as  you  did  me,  or  you'll  drive  his  breath 
back  again.  Let  him  alone:  he  is  sure  to  come  to. 
'Tisn't  like  as  if  he  was  an  old  man." 

Gerard  sighed  deeply,  and  a  faint  streak  of  color  stole 
to  his  lips.  Jorian  made  for  the  door.  He  had  hardly 
reached  it,  when  he  found  his  legs  seized  from  behind. 

It  was  Margaret !  She  curled  round  his  knees  like  a 
serpent,  and  kissed  his  hand,  and  fawned  on  him.  "  You 
won't  tell  ?  You  have  saved  his  life ;  you  have  not  the 
heart  to  thrust  him  back  into  his  grave,  to  undo  your 
own  good  work  ?" 

"  No,  no !  It  is  not  the  first  time  I've  done  you  two 
a  good  turn  ;  'twas  I  told  you  in  the  church  whither  we 
had  to  take  him.  Besides,  what  is  Dirk  Brower  to  me  ? 
I'll  see  him  hanged  ere  I'll  tell  him.  But  I  wish  you'd 
tell  me  where  the  parchments  are  ?  There  are  a  hund- 
red crowns  offered  for  them.  That  would  be  a  good 
windfall  for  my  Joan  and  the  children,  you  know." 

"  Ah !  they  shall  have  those  hundred  crowns." 

"  What !  are  the  things  in  the  house  ?"  asked  Jorian, 
eagerly. 

"  No ;  but  I  know  where  they  are ;  and  by  God  and 
St.  Barsos,  I  swear  you  shall  have  them  to-morrow.  Come 
to  me  for  them  when  you  will,  but  come  alone." 

"  I  were  mad,  else.  What !  share  the  hundred  crowns 
with  Dirk  Brower  ?  And  now  may  my  bones  rot  in  my 
skin  if  I  let  a  soul  know  the  poor  boy  is  here !" 

He  then  ran  off,  lest  by  staying  longer  he  should  ex- 
cite suspicion,  and  have  them  all  after  him.  And  Mar- 
garet knelt,  quivering  from  head  to  foot,  and  prayed  be- 
side Gerard,  and  for  Gerard. 


134  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  What  is  to  do  ?  Why  we  have  scared  the  girl  out 
of  her  wits.  She  was  in  a  kind  of  fit." 

"  We  had  better  all  go  and  doctor  her,  then." 

"  Oh  yes !  and  frighten  her  into  the  church-yard.  Her 
father  is  a  doctor,  and  I  have  roused  him,  and  sent  him 
to  bring  her  round.  Let  us  see  the  fire,  will  ye  ?" 

His  off-hand  way  disarmed  all  suspicion.  And  soon 
after  the  party  agreed  that  the  kitchen  of  the  Three 
Kings  was  much  warmer  than  Peter's  house,  and  they 
departed,  having  first  untied  Martin. 

"  Take  note,  mate,  that  I  was  right,  and  the  Burgo- 
master wrong,"  said  Dierich  Brower,  at  the  door :  "  I 
said  we  should  be  too  late  to  catch  him,  and  we  were 
too  late." 

Thus  Gerard,  in  one  terrible  night,  grazed  the  prison 
and  the  grave ! 

And  how  did  he  get  clear  at  last?  Not  by  his  cun- 
ningly-contrived hiding-place,  nor  by  Margaret's  ready 
wit ;  but  by  a  good  impulse  in  one  of  his  captors — by 
the  bit  of  humanity  left  in  a  somewhat  reckless  fellow's 
heart,  aided  by  his  desire  of  gain.  So  mixed  and  seem- 
ingly incongruous  are  human  motives,  so  short-sighted 
our  shrewdest  counsels. 

They  whose  moderate  natures,  or  gentle  fates,  keep 
them  in  life's  passage  from  the  fierce  extremes  of  joy 
and  anguish  our  nature  is  capable  of,  are  perhaps  the 
best,  and  certainly  the  happiest,  of  mankind.  But  to 
such  readers  I  should  try  in  vain  to  convey  what  bliss 
unspeakable  settled  now  upon  those  persecuted  lovers. 
Even  to  those  who  have  joyed  greatly,  and  greatly  suf- 
fered, my  feeble  art  can  present  but  a  pale  reminiscence, 
and  a  faint  reflection  of  Margaret's  and  Gerard's  ecstasy. 

To  sit  and  see  a  beloved  face  come  back  from  the 
grave  to  the  world,  to  health  and  beauty  by  swift  gra- 
dations ;  to  see  the  roses  return  to  the  loved  cheek,  love's 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  135 

glance  to  the  loved  eye,  and  his  words  to  the  loved 
mouth :  this  was  Margaret's — a  joy  to  balance  years  of 
sorrow.  It  was  Gerard's  to  awake  from  a  trance  and 
find  his  head  pillowed  on  Margaret's  arm;  to  hear  the 
woman  he  adored  murmur  new  words  of  eloquent  love, 
and  shower  tears  and  tender  kisses  and  caresses  on  him. 
He  never  knew,  till  this  sweet  moment,  how  ardently, 
how  tenderly  she  loved  him.  He  thanked  his  enemies. 
They  wreathed  their  arms  sweetly  round  each  other,  and 
trouble  and  danger  seemed  a  world,  an  age,  behind  them. 
They  called  each  other  husband  and  wife.  Had  they  not 
stood  before  the  altar  together  ?  Was  not  the  blessing 
of  Holy  Church  upon  their  union  ?  Her  curse  on  all  who 
would  part  them  ? 

But  as  no  woman's  nerves  can  bear  with  impunity  so 
terrible  a  strain,  presently  Margaret  turned  faint,  and 
sank  on  Gerard's  shoulder,  smiling  feebly,  but  quite, 
quite  unstrung.  Thus  Gerard  was  anxious,  and  would 
seek  assistance.  But  she  held  him  with  a  gentle  grasp, 
and  implored  him  not  to  leave  her  for  a  moment. 
"  "While  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  you,  I  feel  you  are  safe, 
not  else.  Foolish  Gerard !  nothing  ails  me.  I  am  weak, 
dearest,  but  happy,  oh !  so  happy !" 

Then  it  was  Gerard's  turn  to  support  that  dear  head, 
with  its  great  waves  of  hair  flowing  loose  over  him,  and 
nurse  her,  and  soothe  her,  quivering  on  his  bosom,  with 
soft  encouraging  words  and  murmurs  of  love,  and  gentle 
caresses.  Sweetest  of  ah1  her  charms  is  a  woman's  weak- 
ness to  a  manly  heart. 

Poor  things!  they  were  happy.  To-morrow  they 
must  part.  But  that  was  nothing  to  them  now.  They 
had  seen  Death,  and  all  other  troubles  seemed  light  as 
air.  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope:  while  there  is 
hope  there  is  joy.  Separation  for  a  year  or  two,  what 
was  it  to  them,  who  were  so  young,  and  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  grave  ?  The  future  was  bright :  the  pres- 
ent was  Heaven :  so  passed  the  blissful  hours. 


136  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

Alas !  their  innocence  ran  other  risks  besides  the  pris- 
on and  the  grave :  they  were  in  most  danger  from  their 
own  hearts  and  their  inexperience,  now  that  visible  dan- 
ger there  was  none. 

Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  could  not  sleep  all  night  for 
anxiety.  He  was  afraid  of  thunder  and  lightning,  or  he 
would  have  made  one  of  the  party  that  searched  Peter's 
house.  As  soon  as  the  storm  ceased  altogether,  he  crept 
down  stairs,  saddled  his  mule,  and  rode  to  the  Three 
Kings  at  Sevenbergen.  There  he  found  his  men  sleep- 
ing, some  on  the  chairs,  some  on  the  tables,  some  on  the 
floor.  He  roused  them  furiously,  and  heard  the  story  of 
their  unsuccessful  search,  interlarded  with  praises  of  their 
zeal. 

"  Fool !  to  let  you  go  without  me,"  cried  the  Burgo- 
master. "  My  life  on't  he  was  there  all  the  tune.  Look- 
ed ye  under  the  girl's  bed  ?" 

"  No :  there  was  no  room  for  a  man  there." 

"  How  know  ye  that,  if  ye  looked  not  ?"  snarled  Ghys- 
brecht. "  Ye  should  have  looked  under  her  bed,  and  in 
it,  too;  and  sounded  ah1  the  panels  with  your  knives. 
Come,  now,  get  up,  and  I  shah1  show  ye  how  to  search." 

Dierich  Brower  got  up,  and  shook  himself:  "If  you 
find  him,  cah1  me  a  horse  and  no  man." 

In  a  few  minutes  Peter's  house  was  again  surrounded. 

The  fiery  old  man  left  his  mule  in  the  hands  of  Jorian 
Ketel,  and,  with  Dierich  Brower  and  the  others,  entered 
the  house. 

The  house  was  empty ! 

Not  a  creature  to  be  seen,  not  even  Peter.  They  went 
up  stairs,  and  then  suddenly  one  of  the  men  gave  a  shout, 
and  pointed  through  Peter's  window,  which  was  open. 
The  others  looked,  and  there,  at  some  little  distance, 
walking  quietly  across  the  fields  with  Margaret  and  Mar- 
tin, was  the  man  they  sought.  Ghysbrecht,  with  an  ex- 
ulting yell,  descended  the  stairs,  and  flung  himself  on  his 
mule ;  and  he  and  his  men  set  off  in  hot  pursuit. 


A    GOOD   F1UHT.  139 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

GERARD,  warned  by  recent  peril,  rose  before  daybreak, 
and  waked  Martin.  The  old  soldier  was  astonished. 
He  thought  Gerard  had  escaped  by  the  window  last 
night.  Being  consulted  as  to  the  best  way  for  him  to 
leave  the  country  and  elude  pursuit,  he  said  there  was  but 
one  road  safe.  "I  must  guide  you  through  the  great 
forest  to  a  bridle -road  I  know  of.  This  will  take  you 
speedily  to  a  hostelry,  where  they  will  lend  you  a  swift 
horse :  and  then  an  hour's  gallop  will  take  you  out  of 
Holland.  But  let  us  start  ere  the  folk  here  quit  their 
beds." 

Peter's  house  was  but  a  furlong  and  a  half  from  the 
forest.  They  started,  Martin  with  his  bow  and  three  ar- 
rows, for  it  was  Thursday :  Gerard  with  nothing  but  a 
stout  oak  staff  Peter  gave  him  for  the  journey. 

Margaret  pinned  up  her  kirtle  and  farthingale,  for  the 
road  was  wet.  Peter  went  as  far  as  his  garden  hedge 
with  them,  and  then,  with  more  emotion  than  he  often 
bestowed  on  passing  events,  gave  the  young  man  his 
blessing. 

The  sun  was  peeping  above  the  horizon  as  they  crossed 
the  stony  field  and  made  for  the  wood.  They  had  crossed 
about  half,  when  Margaret,  who  kept  nervously  looking 
back  every  now  and  then,  uttered  a  cry,  and  following 
her  instinct,  began  to  run  toward  the  wood,  screaming 
with  terror  all  the  way. 

Ghysbrecht  and  his  men  were  in  hot  pursuit. 

Resistance  would  have  been  madness.  Martin  and 
Gerard  followed  Margaret's  example.  The  pursuers 
gained  slightly  on  them;  but  Martin  kept  Shouting, 
"  Only  gain  the  wood !  only  gain  the  wood !" 

They  had  too  good  a  start  for  the  men  on  foot,  and 


140  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

their  hearts  bounded  with  hope  at  Martin's  words,  for 
the  great  trees  seemed  now  to  stretch  their  branches 
like  friendly  arms  toward  them,  and  their  leaves  like  a 
screen. 

But  an  unforeseen  danger  burst  on  them.  The  fiery 
old  Burgomaster  had  flung  himself  on  his  mule,  and, 
spurring  him  to  a  gallop,  he  headed  not  his  own  men 
only,  but  the  fugitives.  His  object  was  to  cut  them  off. 
The  old  man  came  galloping  in  a  semicircle,  and  got  on 
the  edge  of  the  wood,  right  in  front  of  Gerard ;  the  oth- 
ers might  escape  for  aught  he  cared. 

Margaret  shrieked  twice ;  but  only  once  for  Gerard. 

Ghysbrecht,  in  his  ardor,  had  forgotten  that  hunted 
animals  turn  on  the  hunter ;  and  that  two  men  can  hate, 
and  two  can  long  to  kill  the  thing  they  hate. 

Instead  of  attempting  to  dodge  him,  as  the  Burgomas- 
ter thought  he  would,  Gerard  flew  right  at  him  with  a 
savage,  exulting  cry,  and  struck  at  him  with  all  his  heart 
and  soul  and  strength.  The  oak  staff  came  down  on  his 
face  with  a  frightful  crash,  and  laid  him  under  his  mule's 
tail,  beating  the  devil's  tattoo  with  his  heels,  his  face 
streaming,  and  his  collar  spattered  with  blood. 

The  next  moment  the  three  were  in  the  wood.  The 
yell  of  dismay  and  vengeance  that  burst  from  Ghys- 
brecht's  men  at  that  terrible  blow  which  felled  their 
leader,  told  the  fugitives  that  it  was  a  race  for  life  or 
death. 

"Why  run?"  cried  Gerard,  panting.  "You  have 
your  bow ;  and  I  have  this :"  and  he  shook  his  bloody 
staff. 

"  Boy !"  roared  Martin ;  "  the  GALLOWS !  Follow 
me !"  and  he  fled  into  the  wood.  Soon  they  heard  a  cry 
like  a  pack  of  hounds  opening  on  sight  of  the  game. 
The  men  were  in  the  wood,  and  saw  them  flitting  among 
the  trees.*  Margaret  moaned  and  panted,  as  she  ran; 
and  Gerard  clenched  his  teeth,  and  grasped  his  staff. 
The  next  minute  they  came  to  a  stiff  hazel  coppice. 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  141 

Martin  dashed  into  it,  and  shouldered  the  young  wood 
aside  as  if  it  were  standing  corn. 

Ere  they  had  gone  fifty  yards  in  it  they  came  to  four 
blind  paths. 

Martin  took  one.  "  Bend  low,"  said  he :  and,  half 
creeping,  they  glided  along.  Presently  their  path  was 
again  intersected  with  other  little  tortuous  paths.  They 
took  one  of  them ;  it  seemed  to  lead  back,  but  soon  it 
took  a  turn,  and  after  a  while  brought  them  to  a  thick 
pine  grove  where  the  walking  was  good  and  hard :  there 
were  no  paths  here,  and  the  young  fir-trees  were  so  thick 
you  could  not  see  three  yards  before  your  nose. 

When  they  had  gone  some  way  in  this,  Martin  sat 
down,  and  accustomed  to  lose  all  impression  of  danger 
with  the  danger  itself,  took  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  slice 
of  ham  out  of  his  wallet,  and  began  quietly  to  eat  his 
breakfast. 

The  young  ones  looked  at  him  with  dismay.  He  re- 
plied to  their  looks. 

"  All  Sevenbergen  could  not  find  you  now ;  you  will 
lose  your  purse,  Gerard,  long  before  you  get  to  Italy :  is 
that  the  way  to  carry  a  purse  ?" 

Gerard  looked,  and  there  was  a  large  triangular  purse, 
entangled  by  its  chains  to  the  buckle  and  strap  of  his 
wallet. 

"  This  is  none  of  mine,"  said  he.  "  What  is  in  it,  I 
wonder?"  and  he  tried  to  detach  it:  but  in  passing 
through  the  coppice  it  had  become  inextricably  entan- 
gled in  his  strap  and  buckle.  It  seems  loth  to  leave 
me,"  said  Gerard,  and  he  had  to  cut  it  loose  with  his 
knife.  The  purse,  on  examination,  proved  to  be  well 
provided  with  silver  coins  of  all  sizes,  but  its  bloated  ap- 
pearance was  greatly  owing  to  a  number  of  pieces  of 
brown  paper  folded  and  doubled.  A  light  burst  on  Ge- 
rard. "Why,  it  must  be  that  old  thief's?  and  see! 
stuffed  with  paper  to  deceive  the  world !" 

The  wonder  was,  how  the  Burgomaster's  purse  came 
on  Gerard. 


142  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

They  hit  at  last  upon  the  right  solution.  The  purse 
must  have  been  at  Ghysbrecht's  saddle-bow,  and  Gerard, 
rushing  at  his  enemy,  had  unconsciously  torn  it  away, 
thus  felling  his  enemy  and  robbing  him,  with  a  single 
gesture. 

Gerard  was  delighted  at  this  feat,  but  Margaret  was 
uneasy. 

"  Throw  it  away,  Gerard,  or  let  Martin  take  it  back. 
Already  they  call  you  a  thief.  I  can  not  bear  it." 

"  Throw  it  away  ?  give  it  him  back  ?  not  a  stiver. 
This  is  spoil,  lawfully  won  in  battle  from  an  enemy.  Is 
it  not,  Martin  ?" 

"  Why,  of  course.  Send  him  back  the  brown  paper 
an  you  will ;  but  the  purse  or  the  coin — that  were  a  sin." 

"  Oh,  Gerard !"  said  Margaret,  "  you  are  going  to  a 
distant  land.  We  need  the  good- will  of  Heaven.  How 
can  we  hope  for  that,  if  we  take  what  is  not  ours  ?" 

But  Gerard  saw  it  in  a  different  light. 

"  It  is  Heaven  that  gives  it  me  by  a  miracle,  and  I  shall 
cherish  it  accordingly,"  said  this  pious  youth.  "Thus 
the  favored  people  spoiled  the  Egyptians,  and  were 
blessed." 

"  Take  your  own  way,"  said  Margaret,  humbly,  "  you 
are  wiser  than  I  am.  You  are  my  husband,"  added  she, 
in  a  low  murmuring  voice;  "is  it  for  me  to  gainsay 
you?" 

These  humble  words  from  Margaret,  who,  till  that  day, 
had  held  the  whip  hand,  rather  surprised  Martin  for  the 
moment.  They  recurred  to  him  some  time  afterward, 
and  then  they  surprised  him  less. 

Gerard  kissed  her  tenderly  in  return  for  her  wife-like 
docility,  and  they  pursued  their  journey  hand-in-hand, 
Martin  leading  the  way,  into  the  depths  of  the  huge  for- 
est. The  farther  they  went  the  more  absolutely  secure 
from  pursuit  they  felt.  Indeed,  the  townspeople  never 
ventured  so  far  as  this  into  the  trackless  part  of  the  forest. 

Impetuous  natures  repent  quickly.     Gerard  was  no 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  143 

sooner  out  of  all  danger,  than  his  conscience  began  to 
prick  him. 

"  Martin,  would  I  had  not  struck  quite  so  hard." 

"  Whom  ?     Oh !  let  that  pass ;  he  is  cheap  served." 

"  Martin,  I  saw  his  gray  hairs  as  my  stick  fell  on  him. 
I  doubt  I  shall  not  get  them  out  of  my  sight  this  while." 

Martin  grunted.  "  Who  spares  a  badger  for  his  gray 
hairs  ?  The  grayer  your  enemy  is,  the  older ;  and  the 
older  the  craftier;  and  the  craftier  the  better  for  a  little 
killing." 

"Killing?  Killing,  Martin?  don't  speak  of  killing!" 
And  Gerard  shook  all  over. 

"  I  am  very  much  mistaken  if  you  have  not,"  said 
Martin,  cheerfully. 

"  Now  Heaven  forbid !" 

"The  old  vagabond's  skull  cracked  like  a  walnut. 
Aha!" 

"  God  and  all  the  saints  forbid  it  1" 

"He  rolled  offhis  mule  like  a  stone  shot  out  of  a  cart. 
Said  I  to  myself,  '  there  is  one  wiped  out.' "  And  the 
iron  old  soldier  grinned  ruthlessly. 

Gerard  fell  on  his  knees,  and  began  to  pray  for  his 
enemy's  life. 

At  this  Martin  lost  patience.  "Here's  mummery. 
What,  you  that  set  up  for  learning,  know  you  not  that  a 
wise  man  never  strikes  his  enemy  but  to  kill  him  ?  And 
what  is  all  this  coil  about  killing  of  old  men?  If  it  had 
been  a  young  one  now,  with  the  joys  of  life  waiting  for 
him — to  wit,  wine,  women,  and  pillage — but  an  old  felloAV 
at  the  edge  of  the  grave,  why  not  shove  him  in  ?  Go  he 
must,  to-day  or  to-morrow;  and  what  better  place  for 
gray-beards  ?  Now,  if  ever  I  should  be  so  mischancy  as 
to  last  so  long  as  Ghysbrecht  did,  and  have  to  go  on  a 
mule's  legs  instead  of  Martin  Wittenhaagen's,  and  a  back 
like  this  (striking  the  wood  of  his  bow),  instead  of  this 
(striking  the  string),  I'll  thank  and  bless  any  young  fel- 
low, who  will  have  the  charity  and  the  friendship  to 


144  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

knock  me  on  the  head,  as  you  have  done  that  old  shop- 
keeper, malediction  on  his  memory !" 

"  Oh,  culpa  mea !  culpa  mea  I"  cried  Gerard,  and  smote 
upon  his  breast. 

"Look  there,"  said  Martin  to  Margaret,  scornfully, 
"  he  is  a  priest  at  heart,  still;  and,  when  he  is  not  in  ire, 
St.  Paul !  what  a  milk-sop  !" 

"  Tush,  Martin !"  cried  Margaret,  reproachfully :  then 
sinking  on  her  knees,  she  wreathed  her  arms  round  Ge- 
rard, and  comforted  him  with  the  double  magic  of  a 
woman's  sense  and  a  woman's  voice. 

"  Sweetheart,"  murmured  she,  "  you  forget :  you  went 
not  a  step  out  of  the  way  to  harm  him,  who  hunted  you 
to  your  death.  You  fled  from  him.  He  it  was  who 
spurred  on  you.  Then  did  you  strike,  but  in  self-defense, 
and  a  single  blow,  and  with  that  which  was  in  your 
hand.  Malice  had  drawn  knife,  or  struck  again  and 
again.  How  often  have  men  been  smitten  with  staves 
not  one  but  many  blows,  yet  no  lives  lost.  If,  then,  your 
enemy  has  fallen,  it  is  through  his  own  malice,  not  yours, 
and  by  the  will  of  God." 

"  Bless  you,  Margaret,  bless  you,  for  thinking  so !" 

"  Yes ;  but,  beloved  one,  if  you  have  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  kill  that  wicked  man,  the  more  need  is  there  that 
you  fly  with  haste  from  Holland.  Oh !  let  us  on." 

"Nay,  Margaret,"  said  Gerard,  "I  fear  not  man's 
vengeance,  thanks  to  Martin  here,  and  this  thick  wood : 
only  Him  I  fear  whose  eye  pierces  the  forest,  and  reads 
the  heart  of  man.  If  I  but  struck  in  self-defense,  'tis 
well ;  but  if  in  hate,  he  may  bid  the  avenger  of  blood 
follow  me  to  Italy;  to  Italy?  ay,  to  earth's  remotest 
bounds." 

"  Hush !"  said  Martin,  peevishly.  "  I  can't  hear  for 
your  chat." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Do  you  hear  nothing,  Margaret?  My  ears  are  get- 
ting old." 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  145 

Margaret  listened,  and  presently  she  heard  a  tuneful 
sound,  like  a  single  stroke  upon  a  deep  ringing  bell.  She 
described  it  so  to  Martin. 

"  Nay,  I  heard  it,"  said  he. 

"  And  so  did  I,"  said  Gerard :  "  it  was  beautiful :  Ah  ! 
there  it  is  again.  How  sweetly  it  blends  with  the  air. 
It  is  a  long  way  off.  It  is  before  us ;  is  it  not  ?" 

"  No,  no !  the  echoes  of  this  wood  confound  the  ear 
of  a  stranger.  It  conies  from  the  pine  grove." 

"  What,  the  one  we  passed  ?" 

"  The  one  we  passed." 

"  Why,  Martin,  is  this  any  thing  f    You  look  pale." 

"  Wonderful !"  said  Martin,  with  a  sickly  sneer.  "  He 
asks  me  is  it  any  thing  f  Come,  on,  on !  at  any  rate,  let 
us  reach  a  better  place  than  this." 

"  A  better  place — for  what  ?" 

"  To  stand  at  bay,  Gerard,"  said  Martin,  gravely ;  "  and 
die  tike  soldiers,  killing  three  for  one." 

"  What's  that  sound  ?" 

"IT  IS  THE  AVENGER  OF  BLOOD." 

"Oh,  Martin,  save  him!  Oh,  Heaven  be  merciful! 
What  new,  mysterious  peril  is  this  ?" 

"GIRL,  IT'S  A  BLOOD-HOUND." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  courage,  like  the  talent  of  common  men,  runs  in  a 
narrow  groove.  Take  them  but  an  inch  out  of  that,  and 
they  are  done.  Martin's  courage  was  perfect  as  far  as  it 
went.  He  had  met  and  baffled  many  dangers  in  the 
course  of  his  rude  life;  and  these  familiar  dangers  he 
could  face  with  Spartan  fortitude,  almost  with  indiffer- 
ence :  but  he  had  never  been  hunted  by  a  blood-hound ; 
nor  had  he  ever  seen  that  brute's,  unerring  instinct  baffled 
by  human  cunning.  Here  then  a  sense  of  the  super- 
natural combined  with  novelty  to  unsteel  his  heart.  Aft- 
er going  a  few  steps  he  leaned  on  his  bow,  and  energy 

G 


146  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

and  hope  oozed  out  of  him.  Gerard,  to  whom  the  dan- 
ger appeared  slight  in  proportion  as  it  was  distant,  urged 
him  to  flight. 

"  What  avails  it  ?"  said  Martin  sadly ;  "  if  we  get  clear 
of  the  wood  we  shall  die  cheap ;  here,  hard-by,  I  know  a 
place  where  we  may  die  dear." 

"  Alas !  good  Martha,"  cried  Gerard :  "  despair  not  so 
quickly :  there  must  be  some  way  to  escape." 

"  Oh,  Martin !"  cried  Margaret.  "  What  if  we  were 
to  part  company  ?  Gerard's  life  alone  is  forfeit !  is  there 
no  way  to  draw  the  pursuit  on  us  twain,  and  let  him  go 
safe?" 

"  Girl,  you  know  not  the  blood-hound's  nature.  He  is 
not  on  this  man's  track,  or  that;  he  is  on  the  track  of 
blood.  My  life  on't,  they  have  taken  him  to  where 
Ghysbrecht  fell,  and  from  Ghysbrecht's  blood  to  the  man 
that  shed  it  that  cursed  hound  will  lead  them,  though 
Gerard  should  run  through  an  army,  or  swim  the  Meuse." 
And  again  he  leaned  upon  his  bow,  and  his  head  sank. 

The  hound's  mellow  voice  rang  through  the  wood. 

A  cry  more  tunable 

Was  never  hallooed  to,  nor  cheered  with  horn, 
In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  or  in  Thessaly. 

Strange  that  things  beautiful  should  be  terrible  and 
deadly.  The  eye  of  the  boa  constrictor  while  fascinating 
its  prey  is  lovely.  No  royal  crown  holds  such  a  jewel ; 
it  is  a  ruby  with  the  emerald's  green  light  playing  ever 
upon  it.  Yet  the  deer  that  sees  it,  loses  all  power  of 
motion,  and  trembles,  and  awaits  his  death ;  and  even  so 
to  compare  hearing  with  sight,  this  sweet  and  mellow 
sound  seemed  to  fascinate  Martin  Wittenhaagen.  He 
stood  uncertain,  bewildered,  and  unnerved.  Gerard  was 
little  better  now.  Martin's  last  words  had  daunted  him. 
He  had  struck  an  old  man  and  shed  his  blood,  and  by 
means  of  that  very  blood  blood's  four-footed  avenger 
was  on  his  track.  Was  not  the  finger  of  Heaven  in 
this? 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  147 

While  the  men  were  thus  benumbed,  the  woman's 
brain  was  all  activity.  The  man  she  loved  was  in  dan- 
ger. 

"  Lend  me  your  knife,"  said  she  to  Martin.  He  gave 
it  her. 

"  But  'twill  be  little  use  in  your  hands,"  said  he. 

Then  Margaret  did  a  sly  thing.  She  stepped  behind 
Gerard,  and  furtively  drew  the  knife  across  her  arm,  and 
made  it  bleed  freely ;  then  stooping,  smeared  her  hose 
and  shoes ;  and  still  as  the  blood  trickled  she  smeared 
them;  but  so  adroitly  that  neither  Gerard  nor  Martin 
saw.  Then  she  seized  the  soldier's  arm. 

"  Come,  be  a  man !"  she  said,  haughtily,  "  and  let  this 
end.  Take  us  to  some  thick  place,  where  numbers  will 
not  avail  our  foes." 

"I  am  going,"  said  Martin  sulkily.  "Hurry  avails 
not ;  we  can't  shun  the  hound,  and  the  place  is  hard  by ;" 
then  turning  to  the  left,  he  led  the  way,  as  men  go  to  ex- 
ecution. 

He  soon  brought  them  to  a  thick  hazel  coppice,  like 
the  one  that  had  favored  their  escape  in  the  morning. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  this  is  but  a  furlong  broad,  but  it 
will  serve  our  turn." 

"What  are  we  to  do?" 

"  Get  through  this,  and  wait  on  the  other  side ;  then 
as  they  come  straggling  through,  shoot  three,  knock  two 
on  the  head,  and  the  rest  will  kill  us." 

"  Is  that  all  you  can  think  of?"  said  Gerard. 

"That  is  all." 

"  Then,  Martin  Wittenhaagen,  I  take  the  lead ;  for  you 
have  lost  your  head.  Come,  can  you  obey  so  young  a 
man  as  I  am  ?" 

"  Oh !  yes,  Martin,"  cried  Margaret,  "  do  not  gainsay 
Gerard !  He  is  wiser  than  his  years." 

Martin  gave  a  sullen  assent,  and  they  entered  the  thick 
coppice. 

When  they  had  painfully  traveled  through  half  the 


148  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

brush-wood,  the  blood-hound's  deep  bay  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  louder  and  louder. 

Margaret  trembled. 

Martin  went  down  on  his  stomach  and  listened. 

"  I  hear  a  horse's  feet." 

"  No,"  said  Gerard.  "  I  doubt  it  is  a  mule's.  That 
cursed  Ghysbrecht  is  still  alive,  none  o£her  would  follow 
me  up  so  bitterly." 

"  Never  strike  your  enemy  but  to  slay  him,"  said  Mar- 
tin, gloomily. 

"I'll  hit  harder  this  time,  if  Heaven  gives  me  the 
chance,"  said  Gerard. 

At  last  they  worked  through  the  coppice,  and  there 
was  an  open  wood.  The  trees  were  large,  but  far  apart, 
and  no  escape  possible  that  way. 

And  now  with  the  hound's  bay  mingled  a  score  of 
voices,  whooping  and  hallooing. 

"  The  whole  village  is  out  after  us,"  said  Martin. 

"I  care  not,"  said  Gerard.  "Listen,  Martin.  The 
hound  will  gain  on  the  men,  and  as  soon  as  he  comes  out 
of  the  coppice,  we  will  kill  him." 

"  The  hound  ?     There  are  more  than  one !" 

"  I  hear  but  one." 

"Ay!  but  one  speaks,  the  others  run  mute;  but  let 
the  leading  hound  lose  the  scent,  then  another  shall  give 
tongue.  There  will  be  three  dogs  at  least,  or  devils  in 
dogs'  hides.  Then  we  must  kill  three,  instead  of  one. 
The  moment  they  are  dead,  into  the  coppice  again,  and 
go  right  back.  That  is  a  good  thought,  Gerard !"  said 
Martin,  lifting  his  head. 

"  Hush !  the  men  are  in  the  wood." 

Gerard  now  gave  his  orders  in  a  whisper. 

"  Stand  you  with  your  bow  by  the  side  of  the  coppice 
— there,  in  the  ditch !  I  will  go  but  a  few  yards  to  yon 
oak-tree,  and  hide  behind  it ;  the  dogs  will  follow  me, 
and,  as  they  come  out,  shoot  as  many  as  you  can ;  the  rest 
will  I  brain  as  they  come  round  the  tree!" 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  N9 

Martin's  eye  flashed.     They  took  up  their  places. 

The  whooping  and  hallooing  came  closer  and  closer, 
and  even  the  rustling  of  the  young  wood  was  heard,  and 
every  now  and  then  fhe  unerring  blood-hound  gave  a  sin- 
gle bay. 

Oh !  it  was  terrible !  the  branches  rustling  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  the  inevitable  struggle  for  life  and  death  com- 
ing on  minute  by  minute,  and  that  death-knell  leading  it. 
A  trembling  hand  was  laid  on  Gerard's  shoulder.  It 
made  him  start  violently. 

"  Martin  says,  if  we  are  forced  to  part  company,  make 
for  that  high  ash-tree  we  came  in  by." 

"  Yes !  yes !  yes !  but  go  back  for  Heaven's  sake ! 
don't  come  here !" 

She  ran  back  toward  Martin ;  but,  ere  she  could  get 
to  him,  suddenly  a  huge  dog  burst  out  of  the  coppice, 
and  stood  erect  a  moment.  He  never  noticed  Margaret. 
But  he  lowered  his  nose  an  instant,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment, with  an  awful  yell,  sprang  straight  at  Gerard's  tree, 
and  rolled  head-over-heels  dead  as  a  stone,  literally  spit- 
ted by  an  arrow  from  the  bow  that  twanged  beside  the 
coppice  in  Martin's  hand.  That  same  moment  out  came 
another  hound  and  smelt  his  dead  comrade.  Gerard 
rushed  out  at  him ;  but,  ere  he  could  use  his  cudgel,  a 
streak  of  white  lightning  seemed  to  strike  the  hound, 
and  he  groveled  in  the  dust,  wounded  desperately,  but 
not  killed,  and  howling  piteously. 

Gerard  had  not  time  to  dispatch  him;  the  coppice 
rustled  too  near ;  it  seemed  alive  with  men.  Pointing 
wildly  to  Martin  to  go  back,  Gerard  ran  a  few  yards  to 
the  right,  then  crept  cautiously  into  the  thick  coppice 
just  as  three  men  burst  out.  These  had  headed  their 
comrades  considerably ;  the  rest  were  following  at  vari- 
ous distances.  Gerard  crawled  back  almost  on  all-fours. 
Instinct  taught  Martin  and  Margaret  to  do  the  same 
upon  their  line  of  retreat.  Thus,  within  the  distance  of 
a  few  yards,  the  pursuers  and  pursued  were  passing  one 
another  upon  opposite  tracks. 


150  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

A  loud  cry  announced  the  discovery  of  the  dead  and 
the  wounded  hound.  Then  followed  a  babble  of  voices, 
still  swelling  as  fresh  pursuers  reached  the  spot.  The 
hunters,  as  usual  on  a  surprise,  were  wasting  time,  and 
the  hunted  ones  were  making  the  most  of  it. 

"  I  hear  no  more  hounds,"  whispered  Martin  to  Mar- 
garet, and  he  was  himself  again. 

It  was  Margaret's  turn  to  tremble  and  despair.  "  Oh ! 
why  did  we  part  with  Gerard  ?  They  will  kill  my  Ge- 
rard, and  I  not  near  him !" 

"  Nay,  nay !  the  head  to  catch  him  is  not  on  their 
shoulders.  You  bade  him  meet  us  at  the  ash-tree." 

"  And  so  I  did !  Bless  you,  Martin,  for  thinking  of 
that — to  the  ash-tree !" 

"  Ay !  but  with  less  noise." 

They  were  now  nearly  at  the  edge  of  the  coppice, 
when  suddenly  they  heard  whooping  and  hallooing  behind 
them.  The  men  had  satisfied  themselves  the  fugitives 
were  in  the  coppice,  and  were  beating  back. 

"  No  matter,"  whispered  Martin  to  his  trembling  com- 
panion. "  We  shall  have  time  to  win  clear  and  slip  out 
of  sight  by  hard  running.  Ah !" 

He  stopped  suddenly;  for  just  as  he  was  going  to 
burst  out  of  the  brush-wood,  his  eye  caught  a  figure  keep- 
ing sentinel.  It  was  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  seated"  on 
his  mule,  a  bloody  bandage  was  across  his  nose,  the 
bridge  of  which  was  broken;  but  over  this  his  eyes 
peered  keenly,  and  it  was  plain  by  their  expression  he 
had  heard  the  fugitives  rustle,  and  was  looking  out  for 
them.  Martin  muttered  a  terrible  oath,  and  cautiously 
strung  his  bow,  then  with  equal  caution  fitted  his  last 
arrow  to  the  string.  Margaret  put  her  hands  to  her  face, 
but  said  nothing.  She  saw  this  man  must  die  or  Gerard. 
After  the  first  impulse  she  peered  through  her  fingers, 
her  heart  panting  audibly. 

The  bow  was  raised  and  the  deadly  arrow  steadily 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  153 

drawn  to  its  head,  when  at  that  moment  an  active  figure 
leaped  on  Ghysbrecht  from  behind  so  swiftly,  it  was  like 
a  hawk  swooping  on  a  pigeon.  A  shirt  went  over  the 
Burgomaster,  and,  in  a  turn  of  the  hand,  his  head  was 
muffled  in  it,  and  he  was  whirled  from  his  seat  and  fell 
heavily  upon  the  ground,  where  he  lay  groaning  with 
terror ;  and  Gerard  jumped  down  after  him. 

"  Hist,  Martin !  Martin !" 

Martin  and  Margaret  came  out,  the  former  open- 
mouthed,  crying,  "  Now  fly !  fly !  while  they  are  all  in 
the  thicket ;  we  are  saved !" 

At  this  crisis,  when  safety  seemed  at  hand,  as  fate 
would  have  it,  Margaret,  who  had  borne  so  bravely  till 
now,  began  to  succumb,  partly  from  loss  of  blood. 

"  Oh,  my  beloved !  fly !"  she  gasped.  "  Leave  me,  for 
I  am  faint !" 

"No!  no!"  screamed  Gerard.  "Death  together,  or 
safety !  Ah !  the  mule !  mount  her ;  you,  and  I'll — " 

In  a  moment  Martin  was  on  the  mule,  and  Gerard 
raised  the  fainting  girl  in  his  arms  and  placed  her  on  the 
saddle,  and  relieved  Martin  of  his  bow. 

"  Help !  treason !  murder !  murder !"  shrieked  Ghys- 
brecht, rising  on  his  hams. 

"Silence,  cur!"  roared  Gerard,  and  trode  him  down 
again  by  the  throat  as  men  crush  an  adder.  .  "  Now 
have  you  got  her  firm  ?  Then  fly !  for  our  lives !" 

But  even  as  the  mule,  urged  suddenly  by  Martin's 
heel,  scattered  the  flints  with  his  hind  hoofs  ere  he  got 
into  a  canter,  and  even  as  Gerard  withdrew  his  foot  from 
Ghysbrecht's  throat  to  run,  Dierich  Brower  and  his  five 
men,  who  had  come  back  for  orders,  and  heard  the  Bur- 
gomaster's cries,  burst  roaring  out  of  the  coppice  on 
them. 

G2 


154  A.   GOOD    FIGHT. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SPEECH  is  the  familiar  vent  of  human  thoughts ;  but 
there  are  emotions  so  simple  and  overpowering,  that  they 
rush  out  not  in  words,  but  in  eloquent  sounds.  At  such 
moments  man  seems  to  lose  his  characteristics,  and  to  be 
merely  one  of  the  higher  animals ;  for  these  when  great- 
ly agitated  ejaculate,  though  they  can  not  speak. 

There  was  something  terrible  and  truly  animal  both 
in  the  roar  of  triumph  with  which  the  pursuers  burst 
out  of  the  thicket  on  our  fugitives,  and  in  the  sharp  cry 
of  terror  with  which  these  latter  darted  away.  The  pur- 
suers' hands  clutched  the  empty  air,  scarce  two  feet  be- 
hind them,  as  they  fled  for  life.  Confused  for  a  moment, 
like  lions  that  miss  their  spring,  Dierich  and  his  men  let 
Gerard  and  the  mule  put  ten  yards  between  them. 
Then  they  flew  after  with  uplifted  weapons.  They  were 
sure  of  catching  them ;  for  this  was  not  the  first  time 
the  parties  had  measured  speed.  In  the  open  ground 
they  had  gained  visibly  on  the  trio  this  morning,  and 
now,  at  last,  it  was  a  fair  race  again,  to  be  settled  by 
speed  alone.  A  hundred  yards  were  covered  in  no 
time.  Yet  still  there  remained  these  ten  yards  between 
the  pursuers  and  the  pursued. 

This  increase  of  speed  since  the  morning  puzzled  Die' 
rich  Brower.  But  I  think  I  understand  it.  When  three 
run  in  company,  the  pace  is  that  of  the  slowest  of  the 
three.  From  Peter's  house  to  the  edge  of  the  forest 
Gerard  ran  Margaret's  pace ;  but  now  he  ran  his  own ; 
for  the  mule  was  fleet,  and  could  have  left  them  all  far 
behind.  Moreover,  youth  and  chaste  living  began  to 
tell.  Daylight  grew  imperceptibly  between  the  hunted 
ones  and  the  hunters.  Then  Dierich  made  a  desperate 
effort,  and  gained  two  yards ;  but  in  a  few  seconds  Ge- 


A    UOOD    FIGHT.  155 

rard  had  stolen  them  quickly  back.  The  pursuers  began 
to  curse. 

Martin  heard,  and  his  face  lighted  up.  "  Courage  Ge- 
rard !  courage,  brave  lad !  they  are  straggling." 

It  was  so.  Dierich  was  now  headed  by  one  of  his 
men,  and  another  dropped  into  the  rear  altogether. 

Tney  came  to  a  rising  ground,  not  sharp,  but  long ; 
and  here  youth,  and  grit,  and  honest  living,  told  more 
than  ever. 

Ere  he  reached  the  top,  Dierich's  forty  years  weighed 
him  down  like  forty  bullets.  "  Our  cake  is  dough,"  he 
gasped.  "  Take  him  dead,  if  you  can't  alive ;"  and  he 
left  off  running,  and  followed  at  a  foot's  pace.  Jorian 
Ketel  tailed  off  next ;  and  then  another,  and  so,  one  by 
one,  Gerard  ran  them  all  to  a  stand  still,  except  one  who 
kept  on  stanch  as  a  blood-hound,  though  losing  ground 
every  minute.  His  name,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  was  Eric 
Wouverman.  Followed  by  this  one,  they  came  to  a  rise 
in  the  wood,  shorter,  but  much  steeper  than  the  last. 

"  Hand  on  mane !"  cried  Martin. 

Gerard  obeyed,  and  the  mule  helped  him  up  the  hill 
faster  even  than  he  was  running  before. 

At  the  sight  of  this  manoeuvre,  Dierich's  man  lost 
heart,  and,  being  now  full  eighty  yards  behind  Gerard, 
and  rather  more  than  that  in  advance  of  his  nearest  com- 
rade, he  pulled  up  short,  and  in  obedience  to  Dierich's 
order,  took  down  his  cross-bow,  leveled  it  deliberately, 
and  just  as  the  trio  were  sinking  out  of  sight,  over  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  sent  the  bolt  whizzing  among  them. 

There  was  a  cry  of  dismay ;  and,  next  moment,  as  if  a 
thunderbolt  had  fallen  on  them,  they  were  all  lying  on 
the  ground,  mule  and  all. 


156  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  effect  was  so  sudden  and  magical,  that  the  shoot- 
er himself  was  stupefied  for  a  moment.  Then  he  hailed 
his  companions  to  join  him  in  effecting  the  capture,  and 
himself  set  off  up  the  hill ;  when  up  rose  the  figure  of 
Martin  Wittenhaagen  with  a  bent  bow  in  his  hand. 
Eric  Wouverman  no  sooner  saw  him  in  this  attitude, 
than  he  darted  behind  a  tree,  and  made  himself  as  small 
as  possible.  Martin's  skill  with  that  weapon  was  well 
known,  and  the  slain  dog  was  a  keen  reminder  of  it. 

Wouverman  peered  round  the  bark  cautiously ;  there 
was  the  arrow's  point  still  aimed  at  him.  He  saw  it 
shine.  He  dared  not  move  from  his  shelter. 

When  he  had  been  at  peep-bo  some  minutes,  his  com- 
panions came  up,  and  then,  with  a  scornful  laugh,  Martin 
vanished,  and  presently  was  heard  to  ride  off  on  the 
mule. 

All  the  men  ran  up  together.  The  high  ground  com- 
manded a  view  of  a  narrow  but  almost  interminable 
glade. 

They  saw  Gerard  and  Margaret  running  along  at  a  pro- 
digious distance;  they  looked  like  gnats;  and  Martin 
galloping  after  them  venire  a  terre. 

The  hunters  were  outwitted  as  well  as  outrun.  A  few 
words  will  explain  Martin's  conduct.  We  arrive  at 
causes  by  noting  coincidences ;  yet,  now  and  then,  coin- 
cidences are  deceitful.  As  we  have  all  seen  a  hare  tum- 
ble over  a  brier  just  as  the  gun  went  off,  and  so  raise  ex- 
pectations, then  dash  them  to  earth  by  scudding  away 
untouched,  so  the  Burgomaster's  mule  put  her  foot  in 
a  rabbit-hole,  at  or  about  the  time  the  cross-bow  bolt 
whizzed  innocuous  over  her  head;  she  fell  and  threw 
both  her  riders.  Gerard  caught  Margaret,  but  was  car- 


A    GOOD    FltillT.  157 

ried  down  by  her  weight  and  impetus.  Thus  in  a  mo- 
ment the  soil  was  strewed  with  dramatis  personse. 

The  docile  mule  was  up  again  directly,  and  stood  trem- 
bling. Martin  was  next,  and  looking  round  found  out 
there  was  but  one  in  pursuit ;  on  this  he  made  the  young 
lovers  fly  on  foot,  while  he  checked  the  enemy  as  I  have 
recorded. 

He  now  galloped  after  his  companions,  and  when  aft- 
er a  long  race,  he  caught  them,  he  instantly  put  Gerard 
and  Margaret  on  the  mule,  and  ran  by  their  side,  till  his 
breath  failed,  then  took  his  turn  to  ride,  and  so  in  rota- 
tion. Thus  the  runner  was  always  fresh,  and  long  ere 
they  relaxed  their  speed,  all  sound  and  trace  of  them  was 
hopelessly  lost  to  Dierich  and  his  men.  These  latter 
went  crestfallen  back  to  look  after  their  chief. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LIFE  and  liberty,  while  safe,  are  little  thought  of;  for 
why  ? — they  are  matters  of  course.  Endangered,  they 
are  rated  at  their  real  value.  In  this,  too,  they  are  like 
sunshine,  whose  beauty  men  notice  not  at  noon  when  it 
is  greatest,  but  toward  evening,  when  it  lies  in  flakes  of 
topaz  under  shady  elms.  Yet  it  is  feebler  then;  but 
gloom  lies  beside  it  and  reveals  its  fire.  Thus  Gerard 
and  Margaret,  though  they  started  at  every  leaf  that  rus- 
tled louder  than  its  fellows,  glowed  all  over  with  joy 
and  thankfulness  as  they  glided  among  the  friendly  trees 
in  safety  and  deep  tranquil  silence,  baying  dogs  and  brutal 
voices  yet  ringing  hi  their  mind's  ears. 

But  presently  Gerard  found  stains  of  blood  on  Marga- 
ret's ancles. 

"  Oh,  Martin !  Martin !  help !  they  have  wounded  her ; 
the  cross-bow !" 

"No,  no!"  said  Margaret,  smiling  to  reassure  him. 
"  I  am  not  wounded,  nor  hurt  at  all." 


158  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

"  But  what  is  it,  then,  in  Heaven's  name  ?"  cried  Ge- 
rard, in  great  agitation. 

"  Do  not  scold  me,  then !"  and  Margaret  blushed. 

"  Did  I  ever  scold  you  ?" 

"No,  dear  Gerard.  Well,  then,  Martin  said  it  was 
blood  those  cruel  dogs  followed ;  so  I  thought  if  I  could 
but  have  a  little  blood  on  my  shoon  the  dogs  would  follow 
me  instead,  and  let  my  Gerard  win  free.  So  I  scratched 
my  arm  with  Martin's  knife — forgive  me !  Whose  else 
could  I  take  ?  Yours,  Gerard  ?  Ah,  no.  You  forgive 
me?" 

"  Let  me  see  this  scratch  first,"  said  Gerard,  choking 
with  emotion.  "  There,  I  thought  so.  A  scratch  ?  I  call 
it  a  cut — a  deep,  terrible,  cruel  cut." 

Gerard  shuddered  at  sight  of  it. 

"  She  might  have  done  it  with  her  bodkin,"  said  the 
soldier.  "  Milksop !  that  sickens  at  the  sight  of  a  scratch 
and  a  little  blood." 

"  No,  no.  I  could  look  on  a  sea  of  blood ;  but  not  on 
hers.  Oh,  Margaret !  how  could  you  be  so  cruel  ?" 

Margaret  smiled  with  love  ineffable.  "Foolish  Ge- 
rard," murmured  she,  "  to  make  so  much  of  nothing." 
And  she  flung  the  guilty  arm  round  his  neck.  "  As  if  I 
would  not  give  all  the  blood  in  my  heart  for  you,  let 
alone  a  few  drops  from  my  arm."  And  the  next  mo- 
ment, under  the  sense  of  his  recent  danger,  she  wept  on 
his  neck  for  pity  and  love ;  and  he  wept  with  her. 

"  And  I  must  part  from  her,"  he  sobbed,  "  we  two 
that  love  so  dear— one  must  be  in  Holland,  one  in  Italy. 
Ah  me !  ah  me !  ah  me !" 

At  this  Margaret  wept  afresh,  but  patiently  and  silent- 
ly. Instinct  is  never  off  its  guard,  and  with  her  unself- 
ishness was  an  instinct.  To  utter  her  present  thoughts 
would  be  to  add  to  Gerard's  misery  at  parting,  so  she 
wept  in  silence. 

Suddenly  they  emerged  upon  a  beaten  path,  and  Mar- 
tin stopped. 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  159 

"  This  is  the  bridle-road  I  spoke  of,"  said  he,  gravely, 
"  and  there  away  lies  the  hostelry." 

Margaret  and  Gerard  cast  a  scared  look  at  one  an- 
other. 

"  Come  a  step  with  me,  Martin,"  whispered  Gerard. 
When  he  had  drawn  him  aside,  he  said  to  him  in  a  broken 
voice,  "  Oh,  Martin !  watch  over  her  for  me !  She  is  my 
wife — yet  I  leave  her.  See  Martin !  here  is  gold — it  was 
for  my  journey ;  it  is  no  use  my  asking  her  to  take  it — 
she  would  not ;  but  you  will  for  her,  will  you  not  ?  Oh, 
Heaven !  and  is  this  ah1  I  can  do  for  her  ?  Money  ?  But 
poverty  is  a  curse.  You  will  not  let  her  want  for  any 
thing,  Martin  ?  The  Burgomaster's  silver  is  enough  for 
me." 

"Thou  art  a  good  lad,  Gerard.  Neither  want  nor 
harm  shall  come  to  her.  I  care  more  for  her  little  finger 
than  for  all  the  world ;  and  were  she  naught  to  me,  even 
for  thy  sake  would  I  be  a  father  to  her.  Go  with  a  stout 
heart,  and  God  be  with  thee  going  and  coming."  And 
the  rough  soldier  wrung  Gerard's  hand  and  turned  his 
head  away. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  he  was  for  going  back  to 
Margaret ;  but  Gerard  stopped  him.  "  No,  good  Martin ; 
prithee,  stay  here  behind  this  thicket,  while  I — Oh,  Mar- 
tin! Martin!" 

By  this  means  Gerard  escaped  a  witness  of  his  anguish 
at  leaving  her  he  loved,  and  Martin  escaped  a  piteous 
sight,  on  which  I  myself  would  rather  not  dwell.  He 
did  not  see  the  poor  young  things  kneel  and  renew  be- 
fore heaven  those  holy  vows  cruel  men  had  interrupted. 
He  did  not  see  them  cling  together  like  one,  and  then 
try  to  part,  and  fail,  and  return  to  one  another,  and  cling 
again,  like  drowning,  despairing  creatures.  But  he  heard 
Gerard  sob,  and  sob,  and  Margaret  moan. 

At  last  there  was  a  wild  cry,  and  feet  pattered  on  the 
hard  road. 

He  started  up,  and  there  was  Gerard  running  wildly, 


160  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

with  both  hands  clasped  above  his  head,  in  prayer,  and 
Margaret  tottering  toward  him  with  palms  extended 
piteously,  as  if  for  help,  and  ashy  cheek,  and  eyes  fixed 
on  vacancy. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  spoke  words  of  com- 
fort to  her ;  but  her  mind  could  not  take  them  in ;  only 
at  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  held  him  tight,  and  trem- 
bled violently. 

He  got  her  on  the  mule,  and  put  his  arm  round  her, 
and  so,  supporting  her  frame,  which  was  now  all  relaxed 
and  powerless,  he  took  her  slowly  and  sadly  home. 

She  did  not  shed  one  tear,  nor  speak  one  word. 

At  the  edge  of  the  wood  he  took  her  off  the  mule,  and 
bade  her  go  across  to  her  father's  house.  She  did  as 
she  was  bid. 

Martin  to  Rotterdam.  Sevenbergen  was  too  hot  for 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXVHI. 

JOEIAN  KETEL  came  to  Peter's  house  to  claim  Marga- 
ret's promise ;  but  Margaret  was  ill  in  bed,  and  Peter,  on 
hearing  his  errand,  affronted  him  and  warned  him  off  the 
premises,'and  one  or  two  that  stood  by  were  for  ducking 
him ;  for  both  father  and  daughter  were  favorites,  and 
the  whole  story  was  in  every  mouth,  and  the  Sevenberg- 
ans  in  that  state  of  hot,  indiscriniinating  irritation  which 
accompanies  popular  sympathy. 

So  Jorian  Ketel  went  off  in  dudgeon,  and  repented 
him  of  his  good  deed.  This  sort  of  penitence  is  not 
rare,  and  has  the  merit  of  being  sincere.  Dierich  Brow- 
er,  who  was  discovered  at  "  The  Three  Kings,"  making 
a  chatter-box  drunk  in  order  to  worm  out  of  him  the 
whereabouts  of  Martin  Wittenhaagen,  was  actually  taken 
and  flung  into  a  horse-pond,  and  threatened  with  worse 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  101 

usage,  should  he  ever  show  his  face  in  the  burgh  again  ; 
and  finally,  municipal  jealousy  being  roused,  the  Burgo- 
master of  Sevenbergen  sent  a  formal  missive  to  the  Burg- 
omaster of  Tergou,  reminding  him  he  had  overstepped 
the  law,  and  requesting  him  to  apply  to  the  authorities 
of  Sevenbergen  on  any  future  occasion  when  he  might 
have  a  complaint,  real  or  imaginary,  against  any  of  the 
townsfolk. 

The  wily  Ghysbrecht,  suppressing  his  rage  at  this  re- 
monstrance, sent  back  a  civil  message  to  say  that  the 
person  he  had  followed  to  Sevenbergen  was  a  Tergovan, 
one  Gerard,  and  that  he  had  stolen  the  town  records ; 
that  Gerard  having  escaped  into  foreign  parts,  and  prob- 
ably taken  the  documents  with  him,  the  whole  matter 
was  at  an  end ;  and  that  he  should  not  think  of  molest- 
ing his  friend  Peter  Brandt,  now  there  wa&  no  longer 
any  good  to  be  gained  by  it. 

Thus  he  made  a  virtue  of  necessity.  But,  in  reality, 
his  calmness  was  but  a  veil :  baffled  at  Sevenbergen,  he 
turned  his  views  elsewhere.  He  set  his  emissaries  to 
learn  from  the  family  at  Tergou  whither  Gerard  had  fled, 
and  to  his  infinite  surprise  he  found  they  did  not  know. 
This  added  to  his  uneasiness.  It  made  him  fear  Gerard 
was  only  lurking  in  the  neighborhood :  he  would  make  a 
certain  discovery,  and  would  come  back  and  take  a  ter- 
rible revenge.  From  this  time  Dierich  and  others  that 
were  about  him  noticed  a  change  for  the  worse  in  Ghys- 
brecht Van  Swieten.  He  became  a  moody,  irritable 
man.  A  dread  lay  on  him.  His  eyes  were  forever  cast- 
ing furtive  glances  like  one  who  expects  a  blow,  and 
knows  not  from  what  quarter  it  is  to  come.  Making 
others  wretched  had  not  made  him  happy.  It  seldom 
does.  The  little  family  at  Tergou,  which  but  for  his  vi- 
olent interference  might  in  time  have  cemented  its  dif- 
ference without  banishing  spem  gregis  to  a  distant  land, 
wore  still  the  same  outward  features,  but  within  was  no 
longer  the  simple  happy  family  this  tale  opened  with. 


162  A   GOOD    FIGHT. 

Little  Kate  knew  the  share  Cornells  and  Sybrandt  had 
had  in  banishing  Gerard,  and  though,  for  fear  of  making 
more  mischief  still,  she  never  told  her  mother,  yet  there 
were  times  she  shuddered  at  the  bare  sight  of  them,  and 
blushed  at  their  hypocritical  regrets :  she  could  not  help 
it.  Catherine,  with  a  woman's  vigilance,  noticed  this, 
and  with  a  woman's  subtlety  said  nothing,  but  quietly 
pondered  it,  and  went  on  watching  for  more.  The  black 
sheep  themselves,  in  their  efforts  to  partake  in  the  gen- 
eral gloom  of  sorrow,  succeeded  so  far  as  to  impose  upon 
their  father  and  Giles ;  but  the  demure  satisfaction  that 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  them  could  not  escape  these  femi- 
nine eyes — 

That,  noting  all,  seem'd  naught  to  note. 

Thus  mistrust  and  suspicion  sat  at  the  table,  poor  sub- 
stitutes for  Gerard's  intelligent  face,  that  had  brightened 
the  whole  circle,  unobserved  till  now.  As  for  the  old 
hosier,  his  pride  had  been  wounded  by  his  son's  disobedi- 
ence, and  so  he  bore  stiffly  up,  and  did  his  best  never 
to  mention  Gerard's  name ;  but  underneath  his  Spartan 
cloak  Nature  might  often  be  seen  tugging  at  his  heart- 
strings. One  anxiety  he  never  affected  to  conceal.  "  If 
I  but  knew  where  the  boy  is,  and  that  his  life  and  health 
are  in  no  danger,  small  would  be  my  care,"  would  he 
say ;  and  then  a  deep  sigh  would  follow.  (I  can't  help 
thinking  that  if  Gerard  had  opened  the  door  just  then, 
and  walked  in,  there  would  have  been  many  tears  and 
embraces  for  him,  and  few  reproaches,  or  none.) 

One  thing  took  the  old  couple  quite  by  surprise — pub- 
licity. Ere  Gerard  had  been  gone  a  week,  his  adventures 
were  in  every  mouth ;  and,  to  make  matters  worse,  the 
popular  sympathy  declared  itself  warmly  on  the  side  of 
the  lovers,  and  against  Gerard's  cruel  parents,  and  that 
old  busy-body  the  Burgomaster,  "who  must  put  his  nose 
into  a  business  that  nowise  concerned  him." 

One  feeling  in  Catherine's  mind  was  bitterly  strong, 
and  deprived  an  unfortunate  young  creature  of  a  sym- 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  163 

pathy  that  she  lay  longing  for,  though  not  dating  to  hope 
for  it. 

"Mother,"  said  Kate,  "it  is  all  over  the  town  that 
Margaret  is  down  with  a  fever — a  burning  fever;  her 
father  fears  her  sadly." 

"  Margaret  ?  what  Margaret  ?"  inquired  Catherine, 
with  a  treacherous  assumption  of  calmness  and  indifier- 
ence. 

"  Oh,  mother !  whom  should  I  mean  ?  Why,  Gerard's 
Margaret." 

"Gerard's  Margaret!"  screamed  Catherine;  "how 
dare  you  s.ay  such  a  word  to  me  ?  And  I  rede  you  nev- 
er mention  that  hussy's  name  in  this  house,  that  she  has 
laid  bare.  She  is  the  ruin  of  my  poor  boy — the  flower 
of  all  my  flock.  She  is  the  cause  that  he  is  not  a  holy 
priest  in  the  midst  of  us,  but  is  roaming  the  world,  and 
that  I  am  a  desolate,  broken-hearted  mother.  There,  do 
not  cry,  my  girl ;  I  do  ill  to  speak  harsh  to  you.  But, 
oh,  Kate !  you  don't  know  what  passes  in  a  mother's 
heart.  I  bear  up  before  you  all ;  it  behooves  me  swal- 
low my  fears ;  but  at  night  I  see  him  in  my  dreams,  and 
always  some  trouble  or  other  near  him :  sometimes  I  see 
him  torn  by  wild  beasts ;  sometimes  he  is  in  the  hands 
of  robbers,  and  their  cruel  knives  uplifted  to  strike  his 
poor  pale  face,  that  one  would  think  would  move  a  stone. 
Oh !  when  I  think  that  while  I  sit  here  hi  comfort,  per- 
haps my  poor  boy  lies  dead  in  some  savage  place — and 
all  along  of  that  girl :  there,  her  very  name  is  rat's-bane 
to  me.  I  tremble  all  over  when  I  hear  it." 

"  I'll  not  say  any  thing,  nor  do  any  thing  to  grieve  you 
worse,  mother,"  said  Kate,  tenderly ;  but  she  sighed. 

She  whose  name  was  so  fiercely  interdicted  in  this 
house,  was  much  spoken  of,  and  even  pitied,  elsewhere. 
All  Sevenbergen  was  sorry  for  her,  and  the  young  men 
and  maidens  cast  many  a  pitying  glance,  as  they  passed, 
at  the  little  window  where  the  beauty  of  the  village  lay 
dying  for  love.  In  this  familiar  phrase  they  underrated 


164  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

her  spirit  and  unselfishness.  Gerard  was  not  dead,  and 
she  was  too  loyal  herself  to  doubt  his  constancy.  Her 
father  was  dear  to  her  and  helpless ;  and,  but  for  bodily 
weakness,  ah1  her  love  for  Gerard  would  not  have  kept 
her  from  doing  her  duties,  though  she  might  have  gone 
about  them  with  drooping  head  and  heavy  heart.  But 
physical  and  mental  excitement  had  brought  on  an  at- 
tack of  fever  so  violent,  that  nothing  but  youth  and  con- 
stitution saved  her.  The  malady  left  her  at  last,  but  in 
that  terrible  state  of  bodily  weakness  in  which  the  pa- 
tient feels  life  a  burden. 

Then  it  is  that  love  and  friendship  by  the  bedside  are 
mortal  angels  with  comfort  in  their  voices,  and  healing 
in  their  palms. 

But  this  poor  girl  had  to  come  back  to  life  and  vigor 
how  she  could.  Many  days  she  lay  alone,  and  the  heavy 
hours  rolled  like  leaden  waves  over  her.  In  her  enfeebled 
state  existence  seemed  a  burden,  and  life  a  thing  gone 
by.  She  could  not  try  to  get  well.  Gerard  was  gone. 
She  had  not  him  to  get  well  for.  Often  she  lay  for 
hours  quite  still,  with  the  tears  welling  gently  out  of  her 
eyes. 

But  one  day,  waking  from  an  uneasy  slumber,  she 
found  two  women  in  her  room.  One  was  a  servant ;  the 
other,  by  the  deep  fur  on  her  collar  and  sleeves,  was  a 
person  of  consideration :  a  narrow  band  of  silvery  hair 
being  spared  by-  her  coiffure,  showed  her  to  be  past  the 
age  when  women  of  sense  conceal  their  years.  The  looks 
of  both  were  kind  and  friendly.  Margaret  tried  to  raise 
herself  in  the  bed,  but  the  old  lady  placed  a  hand  very 
gently  on  her. 

"  Lie  still,  sweetheart ;  we  come  not  here  to  put  you 
about,  but  to  comfort  you,  God  willing.  Now  cheer  up 
a  bit,  and  tell  us,  first,  who  think  you  we  are  ?" 

"  Nay,  madam,  I  know  you,  though  I  never  saw  you 
before :  you  are  the  Demoiselle  Van  Eyck,  and  this  is 
Richt  Heynes.  Gerard  has  often  spoken  of  you,  and  of 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  165 

your  goodness  to  him.  Madam,  he  has  no  friend  like 
you  near  him  now,"  and  she  lay  back,  and  the  tears  well- 
ed out  of  her  eyes. 

The  good-natured  Richt  Heynes  began  to  cry  for  com- 
pany ;  but  her  mistress  scolded  her.  "  Well,  you  are  a 
pretty  one  for  a  sick-room,"  said  she :  and  she  put  out  a 
world  of  innocent  art  to  cheer  the  patient ;  and  not  with- 
out some  little  success.  An  old  woman  that  has  seen 
life  and  all  its  troubles  is  a  sovereign  blessing  by  a  sor- 
rowful young  woman's  side.  She  knows  what  to  say, 
and  what  to  avoid.  She  knows  how  to  soothe  her  and 
interest  her.  Ere  she  had  been  there  an  hour  she  had 
Margaret's  head  lying  on  her  shoulder  instead  of  on  the 
pillow,  and  Margaret's  soft  eyes  dwelling  on  her  with 
gentle  gratitude. 

"  Ah !  this  is  hair,"  said  the  old  lady,  running  her  fin- 
gers through  it.  "  Come  and  look  at  it,  Richt !" 

Richt  came  and  handled  it,  and  praised  it  unaffectedly. 
The  poor  child  that  owned  it  was  not  quite  out  of  the 
reach  of  flattery  (owing,  no  doubt,  to  her  not  being 
dead). 

"  In  sooth,  madam,  I  did  use  to  think  it  hideous ;  but 
he  praised  it,  and  ever  since  then  I  have  been  almost  vain 
of  it,  God  forgive  me.  You  know  how  foolish  those  are 
that  love." 

"  They  are  greater  fools  that  don't,"  said  the  old  lady 
sharply. 

Margaret  opened  her  lovely  eyes,  and  looked  at  her 
for  her  meaning. 

This  was  only  the  first  of  many  visits.  In  fact,  either 
Margaret  Van  Eyck  or  Richt  came  nearly  every  day  un- 
til their  patient  was  convalescent;  and  she  improved 
rapidly  under  their  hands.  Richt  attributed  this  princi- 
pally to  certain  nourishing  dishes  she  prepared  in  Peter's 
kitchen ;  but  Margaret  herself  thought  more  of  the  kind 
words  and  eyes  that  kept  telling  her  she  had  friends  to 
live  for.  Her  gratitude  to  her  old  friend  was  ardent 


166  A    GOOD   TIGHT. 

\ 

and  touching,  and  there  was  no  mistaking  its  depth  and 
sincerity. 

Martin  Wittenhaagen  went  straight  to  Rotterdam,  to 
take  the  bull  by  the  horns.  The  bull  in  question  was 
Philip  the  Good,  duke  of  this,  earl  of  that,  lord  of  the 
other.  Arrived  at  Rotterdam,  he  found  the  court  was 
at  Ghent.  To  Ghent  he  went,  and  sought  an  audience, 
but  was  put  off  and  baffled  by  lacqueys  and  pages.  So 
he  threw  himself  in  his  sovereign's  way  out  hunting,  and, 
contrary  to  all  court  precedents,  commenced  the  conver- 
sation— by  roaring  lustily  for  mercy. 

"  Why,  where  is  the  peril,  man  ?"  said  the  duke,  look- 
ing all  round,  and  laughing. 

"  Grace  for  an  old  soldier  hunted  down  by  burgh- 
ers !" 

Now  kings  differ  in  character  like  other  folk ;  but 
there  is  one  trait  they  have  in  common ;  they  are  might- 
ily inclined  to  be  affable  to  men  of  very  low  estate  in- 
deed. These  do  not  vie  with  them  in  any  thing  what- 
ever, so  jealousy  can  not  creep  in ;  and  they  amuse  them 
by  their  bluntness  and  novelty,  and  refresh  them  with  a 
touch  of  nature — a  rarity  in  courts.  So  Philip  the  Good 
reined  in  his  horse  and  gave  Martin  almost  a  tete-a-tete, 
and  Martin  reminded  him  of  a  certain  battle-field  where 
he  had  received  an  arrow  intended  for  his  sovereign. 
The  Duke  remembered  the  incident  perfectly,  and  was 
graciously  pleased  to  take  a  cheerful  view  of  it.  He 
could  afford  to.  Then  Martin  told  his  sovereign  of  Ge- 
rard's first  capture  in  the  church,  his  imprisonment  in 
the  tower,  and  the  manoeuvre  by  which  they  got  him 
out,  and  all  the  details  of  the  hunt ;  and,  whether  he  told 
it  better  than  I  have,  or  that  the  Duke  had  not  heard  so 
many  good  stories  as  you  have,  certain  it  is  Duke  got  so 
excited,  that,  when  a  number  of  courtiers  came  galloping 
up  and  interrupted  Martin,  he  swore  like  a  costermonger 
and  threatened,  only  half  in  jest,  to  cut  off  the  next  head 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  169 

that  should  come  between  him  and  a  good  story :  and 
when  Martin  had  done,  he  said : 

"  St.  Luke !  what  sport  goeth  on  in  this  mine  earldom 
— ay !  in  my  own  woods,  and  I  see  it  not.  You  fellows 
have  all  the  luck."  And  he  was  indignant  at  the  par- 
tiality of  Fortune.  "  Lo  you  now !  this  was  a  man-hunt !" 
said  he.  "  Znever  had  the  luck  to  be  at  a  man-hunt." 

"  My  luck  was  none  so  great,"  replied  Martin,  bluntly ; 
"  I  was  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  dogs'  noses." 

"  Ah !  so  you  were :  I  forgot  that."  And  royalty 
was  almost  reconciled  to  its  lot.  "What  would  you 
then?" 

"A  free  pardon,  your  highness,  for  myself  and  Ge- 
rard." 

"For  what?" 

"  For  prison-breaking." 

"  Go  to  :  the  bird  will  fly  from  the  cage.  'Tis  instinct. 
Besides,  coop  a  young  man  up  for  loving  a  young  wom- 
an ?  These  burgomasters  must  be  void  of  common-sense. 
What  else?" 

"  For  striking  down  the  Burgomaster." 

"Oh!  the  hunted  boar  will  turn  to  bay.  'Tis  his 
right,  and  I  hold  him  less  than  man  that  grudges  it  him. 
What  else?" 

"  For  killing  of  the  blood-hounds." 

The  Duke's  countenance  fell. 

"  'Twas  their  life  or  mine,"  said  Martin,  eagerly. 

"  Ay  !  but  I  can't  have  my  blood-hounds,  my  beautiful 
blood-hounds,  sacrificed  to — " 

"  No,  no,  no !    They  were  not  your  dogs." 

"Whose,  then?" 

"The  ranger's." 

"  Oh.  Well,  I  am  very  sorry  for  him,  but,  as  I  was 
saying,  I  can't  have  my  old  soldiers  sacrificed  to  his 
blood-hounds.  Thou  shalt  have  thy  free  pardon." 

"And  poor  Gerard?" 

"  And  poor  Gerard  too,  for  thy  sake.  And  more,  tell 
H 


170  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

thou  this  Burgomaster  his  doings  mislike  me :  this  is  to 
set  up  for  a  king,  not  a  burgomaster.  I'll  have  no  kings 
in  Holland  but  one.  Bid  him  be  more  humble,  or  by  St. 
Jude  I'll  hang  him  before  his  own  door,  as  I  hanged  the 
Burgomaster  of  what's  the  name,  some  town  or  other  in 
Flanders  it  was :  no,  'twas  somewhere  in  Brabant  —  no 
matter — I  hanged  him,  I  remember  that  much — for  op- 
pressing poor  folk." 

The  Duke  then  beckoned  his  chancellor,  a  pursy  old 
fellow  that  sat  his  horse  like  a  sack,  and  bade  him  write 
out  a  free  pardon  for  Martin  and  one  Gerard. 

This  precious  document  was  drawn  up  in  form  and 
signed  next  day,  and  Martin  hastened  home  with  it. 

Margaret  had  left  her  bed  some  days,  and  was  sitting 
pale  and  pensive  by  the  fireside,  when  he  burst  in,  wav- 
ing the  parchment,  and  crying,  "  A  free  pardon,  girl,  for 
Gerard  as  well  as  me!  Send  for  him  back  when  you 
will ;  all  the  burgomasters  on  earth  daren't  lay  a  finger 
on  him." 

She  flushed  all  over  with  joy,  and  her  hands  trembled 
with  eagerness  as  she  took  the  parchment,  and  devoured 
it  with  her  eyes,  and  kissed  it  again  and  again,  and  flung 
her  arms  round  Martin's  neck,  and  kissed  him.  When 
she  was  calmer,  she  told  him  Heaven  had  raised  her  up 
a  friend  in  the  dame  Van  Eyck.  "  And  I  would  fain 
consult  her  on  this  good  news :  but  I  have  not  strength 
to  wall  so  far." 

"  What  need  to  walk?    There  is  my  mule." 

"Your  mule,  Martin?" 

The  old  soldier  or  professional  pillager  laughed,  and 
confessed  he  had  got  so  used  to  her,  that  he  forgot  at 
times  Ghysbrecht  had  a  prior  claim.  To-morrow  he 
would  turn  her  into  the  Burgomaster's  yard,  but  to-night 
she  should  carry  Margaret  to  Tergou. 

It  was  nearly  dusk ;  so  Margaret  ventured,  and  about 
seven  in  the  evening  she  astonished  and  gladdened  her 
new  but  ardent  friend  by  arriving  at  her  house — with 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  171 

unwonted  roses  on  her  cheeks,  and  Gerard's  pardon  in 
her  bosom. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SOME  are  old  in  heart  at  forty,  some  are  young  at 
eighty.  Margaret  Van  Eyck's  heart  was  an  evergreen. 
She  loved  her  young  namesake  with  youthful  ardor. 
Nor  was  this  new  sentiment  a  mere  caprice:  she  was 
quick  at  reading  character,  and  saw  in  Margaret  Brandt 
that  which  in  one  of  her  own  sex  goes  far  with  an  intel- 
ligent woman — genuineness.  But,  besides  her  own  ster- 
ling qualities,  Margaret  Brandt  had  from  the  first  a  potent 
ally  in  the  old  artist's  bosom. 
Human  nature. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  the  unobservant,  our  hearts 
warm  more  readily  to  those  we  have  benefited  than  to 
our  benefactors.  Some  of  the  Greek  philosophers  noticed 
this ;  but  the  British  Homer  has  stamped  it  in  immortal 
lines: 

I  heard,  and  thought  how  side  by  side 

We  two  had  stemmed  the  battle's  tide 

In  many  a  well-debated  field, 

Where  Bertram's  breast  was  Philip's  shield. 

I  thought  on  Darien's  deserts  pale, 

Where  Death  bestrides  the  evening  gale, 

How  o'er  my  friend  my  cloak  I  threw, 

And  fenceless  faced  the  deadly  dew. 

I  thought  on  Quariana's  cliff, 

Where,  rescued  from  our  foundering  skiff, 

Through  the  white  breakers'  wrath  I  bdre 

Exhausted  Mortram  to  the  shore  ; 

And  when  his  side  an  arrow  found, 

I  sucked  the  Indian's  venom'd  wound. 

These  thoughts  like  torrents  rushed  along 

To  sweep  away  my  purpose  strong. 

Observe!  this  assassin's  hand  is  stayed  by  memory, 
not  of  benefits  received,  but  benefits  conferred. 


172  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

Now  Margaret  Van  Eyck  had  been  wonderfully  kind 
to  Margaret  Brandt ;  had  broken  through  her  own  habits 
to  go  and  see  her ;  had  nursed  her,  and  soothed  her,  and 
petted  her,  and  cured  her  more  than  all  the  medicine  in 
the  world.  So  her  heart  opened  to  the  recipient  of  her 
goodness,  and  she  loved  her  now  far  more  tenderly  than 
she  had  ever  loved  Gerard,  though,  in  truth,  it  was  purely 
out  of  regard  for  Gerard  she  had  visited  her  in  the  first 
instance. 

When,  therefore,  she  saw  the  unwonted  roses  on  Mar- 
garet's cheek,  and  read  the  bit  of  parchment  that  had 
brought  them  there,  she  gave  up  her  own  views  without 
a  murmur. 

"  Sweetheart,"  said  she,  "  I  did  desire  he  should  stay 
in  Italy  five  or  six  years,  and  come  back  rich,  and,  above 
all,  an  artist.  But  your  happiness  is  before  all,  and  I  see 
you  can't  live  without  him,  so  we  must  have  him  home 
as  fast  as  may  be." 

"  Ah,  madam  !  you  divine  my  very  thoughts."  And 
the  young  woman  hung  her  head  a  moment  and  blushed. 
"  But  how  to  let  him  know,  Madam  ?  That  passes  my 
skill.  He  is  gone  to  Italy ;  but  what  part,  that  I  know 
not.  Stay !  he  named  the  cities  he  should  visit.  Flor- 
ence was  one,  and  Rome.  But  then — " 

Finally,  being  a  sensible  girl,  she  divined  that  a  letter, 
addressed  "  My  Gerard — Italy,"  might  chance  to  miscar- 
ry, and  she  looked  imploringly  at  her  friend  for  counsel. 

"  You  are  come  to  the  right  place,  and  at  the  right 

tune,"  said  the  old  lady.     "  Here  was  this  Hans  Memling 

with  me  to-day ;  he  is  going  to  Italy,  girl,  no  later  than 

'  next  week — '  to  improve  his  hand,'  he  says.     Not  before 

'twas  needed,  I  do  assure  you." 

"But  how  is  he  to  find  my  Gerard  ?" 

"Why,  he  knows  your  Gerard,  child.  They  have 
supped  here  more  than  once,  and  were  like  hand  and 
glove.  Now,  as  his  business  is  the  same  as  Gerard's — "' 

"  What !  he  is  a  painter  then  ?" 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  173 

"  He  passes  for  one.  He  will  visit  the  same  places  as 
Gerard,  and,  soon  or  late,  he  must  fall  in  with  him. 
Wherefore,  get  you  a  long  letter  written,  and  copy  out 
this  pardon  into  it,  and  I'll  answer  for  the  messenger. 
In  six  months  at  farthest  Gerard  shall  get  it ;  and  when 
he  shall  get  it,  then  will  he  kiss  it,  and  put  it  in  his  bosom, 
and  come  flying  home.  What  are  you  smiling  at?  And 
now  what  makes  your  cheeks  so  red  ?  And  what  you 
are  smothering  me  for,  I  can  not  think — My  darling! 
yes !  happy  days  are  coming  to  my  little  pearl." 

Meantime,  Martin  sat  in  the  kitchen,  with  the  black- 
jack before  him  and  Richt  Heynes  spinning  beside  him : 
and,  wow !  but  she  pumped  him  that  night. 

This  Hans  Memling  was  an  old  pupil  of  Jan  Van  Eyck 
and  his  sister.  He  was  a  painter,  notwithstanding  Mar- 
garet's sneei',  and  a  good  soul  enough,  with  one  fault. 
He  loved  the  "  nipperkin,  canakin,  and  the  brown  bowl" 
more  than  they  deserve.  This  singular  penchant  kept 
him  from  amassing  fortune,  and  was  the  cause  that  he 
often  came  to  Margaret  Van  Eyck  for  a  meal,  and  some- 
times for  a  groat.  But  this  gave  her  a  claim  on  him, 
and  she  knew  he  would  not  trifle  with  any  commission 
she  should  intrust  to  him. 

The  letter  was  duly  written,  and  left  with  Margaret 
Van  Eyck ;  and,  the  following  week,  sure  enough,  Hans 
Memling  returned  from  Flanders.  Margaret  Van  Eyck 
gave  him  the  letter,  and  a  piece  of  gold  toward  his  trav- 
eling expenses.  He  seemed  in  a  hurry  to  be  off. 

"  All  the  better,"  said  the  old  artist ;  "  he  will  be  the 
sooner  in  Italy." 

But  as  there  are  horses  who  burn  and  rage  to  start, 
and  after  the  first  yard  or  two  want  the  whip,  so  all  this 
hurry  cooled  into  inaction  when  Hans  got  a3  far  as  the 
principal  hostelry  of  Tergou,  and  saw  two  of  his  boon 
companions  sitting  in  the  bay  window.  He  went  in  for 
a  parting  glass  with  them ;  but  when  he  offered  to  pay 


174  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

they  would  not  hear  of  it.  No ;  he  was  going  a  long 
journey ;  they  would  treat  him — every  body  must  treat 
him,  the  landlord  and  all. 

It  resulted  from  this  treatment  tnat  his  tongue  got  as 
loose  as  if  the  wine  had  been  oil ;  and  he  confided  to  the 
convivial  crew  that  he  was  going  to  show  the  Italians 
how  to  paint :  next  he  sang  his  exploits  in  battle,  for  he 
had  handled  a  pike;  and  his  amorous  successes  with 
females,  luckily  not  present  to  oppose  their  version  of 
the  incidents.  In  short,  "plenus  rimarum  erat:  hue 
illuc  diffluebat :"  and  among  the  miscellaneous  matters 
that  oozed  out,  he  must  blab  that  he  was  intrusted  with 
a  letter  to  a  townsman  of  theirs,  one  Gerard,  a  good  fel- 
low. He  added :  "  you  are  all  good  fellows :"  and  he 
slapped  Sybrandt  on  the  back  so  heartily,  that  the  breath 
was  driven  out  of  his  body. 

Sybrandt  on  this  got  a  long  way  off;  but  listened  to 
every  word,  and  learned  for  the  first  time  that  Gerard 
was  gone  to  Italy.  However,  to  make  sure,  he  affected 
to  doubt  it. 

"  My  brother  Gerard  is  never  in  Italy." 

"  Ye  lie,  ye  cur,"  roared  Hans,  taking  instantly  the 
irascible  turn,  and  not  remarking  that  he  who  now  sat 
opposite  him  was  the  same  he  had  eulogized,  and  hit, 
when  beside  him.  "  If  he  was  ten  times  your  brother, 
he  is  in  Italy.  What  call  ye  this  ?  There,  read  me  that 
superscription !"  and  he'  flung  down  a  letter  on  the  table. 

Sybrandt  took  it  up  and  examined  it  gravely;  but 
eventually  laid  it  down,  with  the  remark  that  he  could 
not  read.  However,  one  of  the  company,  by  some  im- 
mense fortuity,  could  read :  and,  proud  of  so  rare  an  ac- 
complishment, took  it,  and  read  it  out :  "  To  Gerard  Ge- 
rardssoen,  of  Tergou.  These  by  the  hand  of  the  trusty 
Hans  Hemling,  with  all  speed." 

"  'Tis  excellently  well  writ,"  said  the  reader,  examining 
every  letter. 

"  Ay !"  said  Hans,  bombastically,  "  and  small  wonder ; 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  175 

'tis  writ  by  a  famous  hand ;  by  Margaret,  sister  of  Jan 
Van  Eyck.  Blessed  and  honored  be  his  memory  !  She 
is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  is  Margaret  Van  Eyck." 

Miscellaneous  Hans'  then  diverged  into  forty  topics. 

Sybrandt  stole  out  of  the  company,  and  went  in  search 
of  Cornelis. 

They  put  their  heads  together  over  the  news:  Italy 
was  an  immense  distance  off.  If  they  could  only  keep 
him  there  ? 

"Keep  him  there?  Nothing  would  keep  him  long 
from  his  Margaret." 

"Curse  her!"  said  Sybrandt.  "Why  didn't  she  die 
when  she  was  about  it  ?" 

"  She  die !  She  would  outlive  the  pest  to  vex  us." 
And  he  was  wroth  at  her  selfishness  in  not  dying,  to 
oblige. 

These  two  black  sheep  kept  putting  their  heads  to- 
gether, and  tainting  each  other  worse  and  worse,  till  at 
last  their  corrupt  hearts  conceived  a  plan  for  keeping 
Gerard  in  Italy  all  his  life,  and  so  securing  his  share  of 
their  father's  substance. 

But  when  they  had  planned  it  they  were  no  nearer 
the  execution ;  for  that  required  talent :  so  iniquity  came 
to  a  stand  still.  But  presently,  as  if  Satan  had  come  be- 
tween the  two  heads,  and  whispered  into  the  right  ear 
of  one  and  the  left  of  the  other  simultaneously,  they 
both  burst  out  at  once  with  the  same  word, 

"THE  BURGOMASTER!" 

They  went  to  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten,  and  he  re- 
ceived them  at  once :  for  the  man  who  is  under  the  tor- 
ture of  suspense  catches  eagerly  at  knowledge.  Certain- 
ty is  often  painful,  but  seldom,  like  suspense,  intolerable. 

"  You  have  news  of  Gerard  ?"  said  he  eagerly. 

Then  they  told  him  about  the  letter  and  Hans  Mem- 
ling.  He  listened  with  restless  eye.  "  Who  writ  this 
letter?" 


176  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

"  Margaret  Van  Eyck,"  was  the  reply :  for  they  nat- 
urally thought  the  contents  were  by  the  same  hand  as 
the  superscription. 

"  Are  ye  sure  ?"  And  he  went  to  a  drawer  and  drew 
out  a  paper  written  by  Margaret  Van  Eyck  while  treat- 
ing with  the  Burgh  for  her  house.  "  Was  it  writ  like 
this?" 

"  Yes.    'Tis  the  same  writing,"  said  Sybrandt,  boldly. 

"Good!  And  now  what  would  ye  of  me?"  said 
Ghysbrecht,  with  beating  heart,  but  a  carelessness  so 
well  feigned  that  it  staggered  them.  They  fumbled 
with  their  bonnets,  and  stammered  and  spoke  a  word  or 
two,  then  hesitated  and  beat  about  the  bush,  and  let  out 
by  degrees  that  they  wanted  a  letter  written,  to  say 
something  that  would  be  sure  to  keep  Gerard  in  Italy, 
and  this  letter  they  proposed  to  substitute  in  Hans  Mem- 
ling's  wallet  for  the  one  he  carried.  While  these  fum- 
bled with  their  bonnets  and  their  iniquity,  and  vacillated 
between  respect  for  a  burgomaster,  and  their  knowledge 
that  this  one  was  as  great  a  rogue  as  themselves,  and, 
somehow  or  other,  on  their  side  against  Gerard,  pros 
and  cons  were  coursing  one  another  to  and  fro  in  the 
keen  old  man's  spirit.  Vengeance  said  let  Gerard  come 
back  and  feel  the  weight  of  the  law.  Prudence  said 
keep  him  a  thousand  miles  off.  But  then  prudence  said 
also,  why  do  dirty  work  on  a  doubtful  chance  ?  Why 
put  it  in  the  power  of  these  two  rogues  to  tarnish  your 
name  ?  Finally,  his  strong  persuasion  that  Gerard  was 
in  possession  of  a  secret  by  means  of  which  he  could 
wound  him  to  the  quick,  coupled  with  his  caution,  result- 
ed thus :  "  It  is  my  duty  to  aid  the  citizens  that  can  not 
write.  But  for  their  matter  I  will  not  be  responsible. 
Tell  me,  then,  what  I  shall  write." 

"  Something  about  this  Margaret." 

"  Ay,  ay !  that  she  is  false,  that  she  is  married  to  an- 
other, I'll  go  bail." 

"  Nay,  Burgomaster,  nay !  not  for  all  the  world !"  cried 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  177 

Sybrandt ;  "  Gerard  would  not  believe  it,  or  but  half, 
and  then  he  would  come  back  to  see.  No ;  say  that  she 
is  dead." 

"  Dead !  what  at  her  age  ?  will  he  credit  that  ?" 

"  Sooner  than  the  other.  Why  she  was  nearly  dead, 
so  it  is  not  to  say  a  downright  lie,  after  all." 

"  Humph  ?  And  you  think  that  will  keep  him  in 
Italy?" 

"  We  are  sure  of  it,  are  we  not,  Cornelis  ?" 

"Ay,"  said  Cornelis,  "our  Gerard  will  never  leave 
Italy  now  he  is  there.  It  was  afways  his  dream  to  get 
there.  He  would  come  back  for  his  Margaret,  but  not 
for  us.  What  cares  he  for  us?  He  despises  his  own 
family — always  did." 

"  This  would  be  a  bitter  pill  to  him,"  said  the  old  hyp- 
ocrite. 

"  It  will  be  for  his  good  in  the  end,"  replied  the  young 
one. 

"  What  avails  Famine  wedding  Thirst,"  said  Cornelis. 

"And  the  grief  you  are  preparing  for  him  so  coolly:" 
Ghysbrecht  spoke  sarcastically,  but  tasted  his  own  venge- 
ance all  the  time. 

"  Oh,  a  lie  is  not  like  a  blow  with  a  curtal  axe.  It 
hacks  no  flesh,  and  breaks  no  bones." 

"A  curtal  axe!"  said  Sybrandt;  "no,  nor  even  like  a 
stroke  with  a  cudgel!"  and  he  shot  a  sly  envenomed 
glance  at  the  Burgomaster's  broken  nose. 

Ghysbrecht's  face  turned  white  with  ire  when  this  ad- 
der's tongue  struck  his  wound.  But  it  told,  as  intended : 
the  old  man  bristled  with  hate. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  what  to  write  for  you,  and 
I  must  write  it :  but,  take  notice,  you  bear  the  blame  if 
nught  turns  amiss.  Not  the  hand  which  writes,  but  the 
tongue  which  dictates,  doth  the  deed." 

The  brothers  assented  warmly,  sneering  within.  Ghys- 
brecht then  drew  his  inkhorn  toward  him,  and  laid  the 
specimen  of  Margaret  Van  Eyck's  writing  before  him, 

H2 


178  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

and  made  some  inquiries  as  to  the  size  and  shape  of  the 
letter ;  when  an  unlooked-for  interruption  occurred ;  Jo- 
rian  Ketel  burst  hastily  into  the  room,  and  looked  vexed 
at  not  finding  him  alone. 

"  Thou  seest  I  have  matter  on  hand,  good  fellow." 

"  Ay ;  but  this  is  grave.  I  bring  good  news ;  but  'tis 
not  for  every  ear." 

The  Burgomaster  rose,  and  drew  Jorian  aside  into  the 
embrasure  of  his  deep  window,  and  then  the  brothers 
heard  them  converse  in  low  but  eager  tones.  It  ended 
by  Ghysbrecht  sending  Jorian  out  to  saddle  his  mule. 
He  then  addressed  the  black  sheep  with  a  sudden  cold- 
ness that  amazed  them : 

"  I  value  the  peace  of  families ;  but  this  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  done  in  a  hurry :  we  will  see  about  it,  we  will  see." 

"  But,  Burgomaster,  the  man  will  be  gone.  It  will  be 
too  late." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"At  the  hostelry,  drinking." 

"  Well,  keep  him  drinking.  We  will  see,  we  will  see." 
And  he  sent  them  off  discomfited. 

To  explain  all  this  we  must  retrograde  a  step.  This 
very  morning,  then,  Margaret  Brandt  had  met  Jorian 
Ketel  near  her  own  door.  He  passed  her  with  a  scowl. 
This  struck  her  and  she  remembered  him. 

"  Stay,"  said  she.  "  Yes !  it  is  the  good  man  who 
saved  him.  Oh !  why  have  you  not  been  near  me  since  ? 
And  why  have  you  not  come  for  the  parchments  ?  Was 
it  not  true  about  the  hundred  crowns  ?" 

Jorian  gave  a  snort ;  but,  seeing  her  face  that  looked 
so  candid,  began  to  think  there  might  be  some  mistake. 
He  told  her  he  had  come,  and  how  he  had  been  re- 
ceived. 

"Alas!"  said  she,  "I  knew  naught  of  this.  I  lay  at 
death's  door."  She  then  invited  him  to  follow  her,  and 
took  him  into  the  garden  and  showed  him  the  spot 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  179 

where  the  parchments  were  buried.  "Martin  was  for 
taking  them  up,  but  I  would  not  let  him.  He,  put  them 
there,  and  I  said  none  should  move  them  but  you,  who 
had  earned  them  so  well  of  him  and  me." 

"Give  me  a  spade!"  cried  Jorian,  eagerly.  "But, 
stop !  No  ;  he  is  a  suspicious  man.  You  are  sure  they 
are  there  still?" 

"  Sure  ?  I  will  openly  take  the  blame  if  human  hand 
hath  touched  them." 

"  Then  keep  them  but  two  hours  more,  I  prithee,  good 
Margaret,"  said  Jorian,  and  ran  off  to  the  Stadthouse  of 
Tergou  a  joyful  man. 

The  rest  you  have  divined. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  Burgomaster  was  also  a  joyful  man  as  he  jogged 
along  toward  Sevenbergen,  with  Jorian  striding  beside 
him,  giving  him  assurance  that  in  an  hour's  time  the 
missing  parchments  would  be  in  his  hand. 

"  Ah !  master,"  said  he,  "  lucky  for  us  it  wasn't  a  thief 
that  took  them." 

"  Not  a  thief?  not  a  thief?  what  call  you  him,  then?" 

".Well,  saving  your  presence,  I  call  him  a  jackdaw. 
This  is  a  piece  of  jackdaw's  work,  if  ever  there  was ; 
take  the  thing  you  are  least  in  want  of,  and  hide  it — 
that's  a  jackdaw.  I  should  know,"  added  Jorian,  oracu- 
larly, "  for  I  was  brought  up  with  a  jackdaw.  He  and  I 
were  born  the  same  year,  but  he  cut  his  teeth  long  be- 
fore me,  and,  wow !  but  my  life  was  a  burden  for  years 
all  along  of  him.  If  you  had  but  a  hole  in  your  hose  no 
bigger  than  a  groat,  in  went  his  beak  like  a  gimlet ;  and 
in  the  matter  of  stealing,  he  was  Gerard  all  over.  What 
he  wanted  least,  and  any  poor  Christian  in  the  house 
wanted  most,  that  went  first.  Mother  was  a  notable 
woman,  so  if  she  did  but  look  round,  away  flew  her 


180  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

thimble.  Father  lived  by  cordwaining,  so  about  sunrise 
Jack  went  diligently  away  with  his  awl,  his  wax,  and  his 
twine.  After  that,  make  your  bread  how  you  could! 
One  day  I  heard  my  mother  tell  him  to  his  face  he  was 
enough  to  corrupt  half  a  dozen  children ;  and  he  only 
cocked  his  eye  at  her,  and  next  minute  away  with  the 
nurseling's  shoe  off  his  very  foot.  Now  this  Gerard  is 
tarred  with  the  same  stick.  The  parchments  are  no 
more  unto  him  than  a  thimble  or  an  awl  to  Jack.  He 
took  'em  out  of  pure  mischief  and  hid  them,  and  you 
would  never  have  found  them  but  for  me." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  Ghysbrecht,  "and  I 
have  vexed  myself  more  than  need." 

When  they  came  to  Peter's  gate  he  felt  uneasy. 

"  I  wish  it  had  been  any  where  but  here." 

Jorian  reassured  him. 

"  The  girl  is  honest  and  friendly,"  said  he.  "  She  had 
nothing  to  do  with  taking  them,  I'll  be  sworn!"  and 
he  led  him  into  the  garden.  "  There,  master,  if  a  face 
is  to  be  believed,  here  they  lie ;  and,  see,  the  mould  is 
loose." 

He  ran  for  a  spade  which  was  stuck  up  in  the  ground 
at  some  distance,  and  soon  went  to  work  and  uncovered 
a  parchment.  Ghysbrecht  saw  it,  and  thrust  him  aside 
and  went  down  on  his  knees  and  tore  it  out  of  the  hole. 
His  hands  trembled  and  his  face  shone.  He  threw  out 
parchment  after  parchment,  and  Jorian  dusted  them  and 
cleaned  them  and  shook  them.  Now,  when  Ghysbrecht 
had  thrown  out  a  great  many,  his  face  began  to  darken 
and  lengthen,  and  when  he  came  to  the  last  he  put  his 
hands  to  his  temples  and  seemed  to  be  all  amazed.  Then 
a  chill  traversed  his  frame. 

"What  mystery  lies  here?"  he  gasped.  "Are  fiends 
mocking  me?  Dig  deeper!  There  must  be  another!" 

Jorian  drove  the  spade  in  and  threw  out  quantities  of 
hard  mould.  In  vain.  And  even  while  he  dug,  his  mas- 
ter's mood  had  changed. 


A    GOOD    FIGHT.  183 

"  Treason !  treachery  !"  he  cried.  "  You  knew  of 
this!" 

"  Knew  what,  master,  in  Heaven's  name  ?" 

"  Caitiff,  you  knew  there  was  another  one  worth  all 
these  twice  told." 

"Tis  false!"  cried  Jorian,  made  suspicious  by  the 
otner's  suspicion.  "  'Tis  a  trick  to  rob  me  of  my  hund- 
red crowns.  Oh !  I  know  you,  Burgomaster."  And 
Jorian  was  ready  to  whimper. 

A  sweet  voice  fell  on  them  both  like  oil  upon  the 
waves.  "  No,  good  man,  it  is  not  false,  nor  yet  is  it  quite 
true :  there  was  another  parchment." 

"  There,  there,  there !     Where  is  it  ?" 

"  But,"  continued  Margaret  calmly, "  it  was  not  a  town 
record  (so  you  have  gained  your  hundred  crowns,  good 
man) :  it  was  but  a  private  deed  between  the  Burgo- 
master here  and  my  grandfather  Flor — " 

"Hush,  hush!" 

"  —is  Brandt." 

"  Where  is  it,  girl  ?  that  is  all  we  want  to  know." 

"  Have  patience,  and  I  shall  tell  you.  Gerard  read  the 
title  of  it,  and  he  said,  *  This  is  as  much  yours  as  the 
Burgomaster's,'  and  he  put  it  apart,  to  read  it  with  me 
at  his  leisure." 

"  It  is  in  the  house,  then  ?"  said  the  Burgomaster,  re- 
covering his  calmness. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Margaret,  gravely,  "  it  is  not."  Then, 
in  a  broken  voice,  "  You  hunted — my  poor  Gerard — so 
hard — and  so  close — that  you  gave  him — no  tune — to 
think  of  aught — but  his  life — and  his  grief.  The  parch- 
ment was  in  his  bosom,  and  he  hath  ta'en  it  with  him." 

"Whither,  whither?" 

"Ask  me  no  more,  sir.  What  right  have  you  to  ques- 
tion me  thus?  It  was  for  your  sake,  good  man,  I  put 
force  upon  my  heart,  and  bore  to  speak  at  all  to  this  hard 
old  man.  For,  when  I  think  of  the  misery  he  has  brought 
on  him  and  me,  the  sight  of  him  is  almost  more  than  I 


184  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

can  bear :"  and  she  gave  an  involuntary  shudder,  and 
went  away  crying  bitterly. 

Remorse  for  the  past,  and  dread  of  the  future,  the  slow, 
but,  as  he  now  felt,  the  inevitable  future,  avarice  and  fear, 
all  tugged  in  one  short  moment  at  this  tough  heart. 
Ghysbrecht  hung  his  head,  and  his  arms  fell  listless  by 
his  sides.  A  coarse  chuckle  made  him  start  round,  and 
there  stood  Martin  Wittenhaagen  leaning  on  his  bow, 
and  sneering  from  ear  to  ear.  At  sight  of  the  man  and 
his  grinning  face,  Ghysbrecht's  worse  passions  awoke. 

"Ho!  attack  him,  seize  him, traitor  and  thief!"  cried 
he.  "  Dog,  thou  shalt  pay  for  all." 

Martin,  without  a  word,  calmly  produced  the  Duke's 
pardon.  Ghysbrecht  looked  and  had  not  a  word  to  say. 
Martin  followed  up  his  advantage. 

"The  Duke  and  I  are  soldiers.  He  won't  let  you 
greasy  burghers  trample  on  an  old  comrade.  He  bade 
me  carry  you  a  message  too." 

"  The  Duke  send  a  message  to  me  ?" 

"  Ay !  I  told  him  of  your  masterful  doings,  of  your 
imprisoning  Gerard  for  loving  a  girl,  and  says  he, '  Tell 
him  this  is  to  be  a  king,  not  a  burgomaster.  I'll  have  no 
kings  in  Holland  but  one.  Bid  him  be  more  humble,  or 
I'll  hang  him  at  his  own  door — ' " 

Ghysbrecht  trembled.  He  thought  the  Duke  capable 
of  the  deed. 

" '  — as  I  hanged  the  Burgomaster  of  Thingembob.' 
The  Duke  could  not  mind  which  of  you  he  had  hung,  or 
in  what  part ;  such  trifles  don't  stick  in  a  soldier's  mem- 
ory, but  he  was  sure  he  had  hanged  one  of  you  for  grind- 
ing poor  folk, '  and  I'm  the  man  to  hang  another,'  said 
the  good  Duke." 

These  repeated  insults  from  so  mean  a  man,  coupled 
with  his  invulnerability,  shielded  as  he  was  by  the  Duke, 
drove  the  choleric  old  man  into  a  fit  of  impotent  fury ; 
he  shook  his  fist  at  the  soldier,  and  tried  to  threaten  him, 
but  could  not  speak  for  the  rage  and  mortification  that' 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  185 

choked  him :  then  he  gave  a  sort  of  screech,  and  coiled 
himself  up  in  eye  and  form  like  a  rattlesnake  about  to 
strike ;  and  spat  furiously  upon  Martin's  doublet. 

The  thick-skinned  soldier  treated  this  ebullition  with 
genuine  contempt.  "  Here's  a  venomous  old  toad !  he 
knows  a  kick  from  this  foot  would  send  him  to  his  last 
home ;  and  he  wants  me  to  cheat  the  gallows.  But  I 
have  slain  too  many  men  in  fair  fight  to  lift  limb  against 
any  thing  less  than  a  man :  and  this  I  count  no  man. 
What  is  it,  in  Heaven's  name  ?  An  old  goat's-skin  bag 
full  o'  rotten  bones." 

"  My  mule !  my  mule !"  screamed  Ghysbrecht. 

Jorian  helped  the  old  man  up,  trembling  in  every  joint. 
Once  in  the  saddle,  he  seemed  to  gather  in  a  moment  un- 
natural vigor ;  and  the  figure  that  went  flying  to  Tergou 
was  truly  weird-like  and  terrible:  so  old  and  wizened 
the  face ;  so  white  and  reverend  the  streaming  hair ;  so 
baleful  the  eye ;  so  fierce  the  fury  which  shook  the  bent 
frame  that  went  spurring  like  mad ;  while  the  quavering 
voice  yelled,  "  I'll  make  their  hearts  ache ! — I'll  make 
their  hearts  ache! — I'll  make  their  hearts  ache! — I'll 
make  their  hearts  ache!  All  of  them!  All! — all! — 
all!" 

The  black  sheep  sat  disconsolate  amid  the  convivial 
crew,  and  eyed  Hans  Memling's  wallet.  For  more  ease 
he  had  taken  it  off,  and  flung  it  on  the  table.  How  read- 
ily they  could  have  taken  out  that  letter  and  put  in  an- 
other. For  the  first  time  in  their  lives  they  were  sorry 
they  had  not  learned  to  write,  like  their  brother. 

And  now  Hans  Memling  began  to  talk  of  going,  and 
the  brothers  agreed  in  a  whisper  to  abandon  their  proj- 
ect for  the  time.  They  had  scarcely  resolved  this,  when 
Dierich  Brower  stood  suddenly  in  the  door-way,  and 
gave  them  a  wink. 

They  went  to  him.  "  Come  to  the  Burgomaster  with 
all  speed,"  said  he. 


186  A    GOOD   FIGHT. 

They  found  Ghysbrecht  seated  at  a  table,  pale  and 
agitated.  Before  him  lay  Margaret  Van  Eyck's  hand- 
writing. "  I  have  written  what  you  desired,"  said  he. 
"  Now  for  the  superscription.  What  were  the  words  ? 
did  ye  see  ?" 

"  We  can  not  read,"  said  Cornelis. 

"  Then  is  all  this  labor  lost,"  cried  Ghysbrecht  angrily. 
"Dolts!" 

"  Nay,  but,"  said  Sybrandt, "  I  heard  the  words  read, 
and  I  have  not  lost  them.  They  were, '  To  Gerard  Ge- 
rardssoen,  these  by  the  hands  of  the  trusty  Hans  Mem- 
ling  with  all  speed.' " 

"'Tis  well.  Now,  how  was  the  letter  folded?  how 
big  was  it  ?" 

"  Longer  than  this  one,  and  not  so  long  as  this." 

"  'Tis  well.    Where  is  he  ?" 

"  At  the  hostelry." 

"  Come,  then,  take  you  this  groat,  and  treat  him.  Then 
ask  to  see  the  letter,  and  put  this  in  place  of  it.  Come 
to  me  with  the  other  letter." 

The  brothers  assented,  took  the  letter,  and  went  to  the 
hostelry. 

They  had  not  been  gone  a  minute,  when  Dierich 
Brower  issued  from  the  Stadthouse,  and  followed  them. 
He  had  his  orders  not  to  let  them  out  of  his  sight  till 
the  true  letter  was  in  his  master's  hands.  He  watched 
outside  the  hostelry. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  They  came  out  almost  im- 
mediately, with  downcast  looks.  Dierich  made  up  to 
them. 

"  Too  late !"  they  cried ;  "  too  late !    He  is  gone !" 

"Gone!     How  long?" 

"  Scarce  five  minutes.     Cursed  chance !" 


A    GOOD   FIGHT.  187 


CHAPTER  XXXI, 

"You  must  come  to  the  Burgomaster  at  once,"  said 
Dierich  Brower. 

"To  what  end?" 

"No  matter;  come:"  and  he  hurried  them  to  the 
Stadthouse. 

Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  was  not  the  man  to  accept  a 
defeat.  "  Well,"  said  he,  on  hearing  the  ill  news,  "  sup- 
pose he  is  gone.  Is  he  mounted  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  what  hinders  you  to  come  up  with  him  ?" 

"  But  what  avails  coming  up  with  him  ?  there  are  no 
hostelries  on  the  road  he  is  gone." 

"  Fools !"  said  Ghysbrecht,  "  is  there  no  way  of  empty- 
ing a  man's  pockets  but  liquor  and  sleight  of  hand  ?" 

A  meaning  look,  that  passed  between  Ghysbrecht  and 
Dierich,  aided  the  brothers'  comprehension.  They 
changed  color,  and  lost  all  zeal  for  the  business. 

"No!  no!  we  won't  get  ourselves  hanged  to  spite 
Gerard,"  said  Sybrandt ;  "  that  would  be  a  fool's  trick." 

"  Hanged  ?"  cried  Ghysbrecht.  "  Am  I  not  the  Burg- 
omaster ?  How  can  ye  be  hanged  ?  I  see  how  'tis :  ye 
fear  to  tackle  one  man,  being  two :  hearts  of  hare,  that  ye 
are !  Oh !  why  can  not  I  be  young  again  ?  I'd  do  it 
single-handed." 

The  old  man  now  threw  off  all  disguise,  and  showed 
them  his  heart  was  in  this  deed.  He  then  flattered  and 
besought,  and  jeered  them  alternately,  but  he  found  no 
eloquence  could  move  them  to  an  action,  however  dis- 
honorable, which  was  attended  with  danger.  At  last 
he  opened  a  drawer,  and  showed  them  a  pile  of  silver 
coins. 

"  Change  but  those  letters  for  me,"  he  said, "  and  each 


188  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 

of  you  shall  thrust  one  hand  into  this  drawer  and  take 
away  as  many  of  them  as  you  can  hold." 

The  effect  was  magical.  Their  eyes  glittered  with  de- 
sire. Their  whole  bodies  seemed  to  swell,  and  rise  into 
male  energy. 

"  Swear  it,  then,"  said  Sybrandt. 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  No.     On  the  crucifix." 

Ghysbrecht  swore  upon  the  crucifix. 

The  next  minute  the  brothers  were  on  the  road,  in 
pursuit  of  Hans  Hemling.  They  came  in  sight  of  him 
about  two  leagues  from  Tergou ;  but  though  they  knew 
he  had  no  weapon  but  his  staff,  they  were  too  prudent  to 
venture  on  him  in  daylight ;  so  they  fell  back. 

But  being  now  three  leagues  and  more  from  the  town, 
and  on  a  grassy  road — sun  down,  moon  not  yet  up — 
honest  Hans  suddenly  found  himself  attacked  before  and 
behind  at  once  by  men  with  uplifted  knives,  who  cried 
in  loud  though  somewhat  shaky  voices,  "  Stand  and  de- 
liver." 

The  attack  was  so  sudden,  and  so  well  planned,  that 
Hans  was  dismayed.  "  Slay  me  not,  good  fellows,"  he 
cried :  "  I  am  but  a  poor  man,  and  ye  shall  have  my  all." 

"  So  be  it,  then.     Live !     But  empty  thy  wallet." 

"  There  is  naught  in  my  wallet,  good  friends,  but  one 
letter." 

"  That  we  shall  see,"  said  Sybrandt,  who  was  the  one 
in  front.  "  Well :  it  is  a  letter." 

"  Take  it  not  from  me,  I  pray  you.  'Tis  worth  naught, 
and  the  good  dame  would  fret  that  writ  it." 

"There,"  said  Sybrandt,  "take  back  thy  letter:  and 
now  empty  thy  pouch.  Come !  tarry  not !" 

But  by  this  time  Hans  had  recovered  his  confusion : 
and,  by  a  certain  flutter  in  Sybrandt,  and  hard  breathing 
of  Cornelis,  aided  by  an  indescribable  consciousness,  felt 
sure  the  pair  he  had  to  deal  with  were  no  heroes.  He 
pretended  to  fumble  for  his  money :  then  suddenly  thrust 


A   GOOD   FIGUT.  189 

liis  staff  firmly  into  Sybrandt's  face,  and  drove  him  stag- 
gering, and  lent  Cornells  a  back-handed  slash  on  the  ear 
that  sent  him  twirling:  then  whirled  his  weapon  over 
his  head  and  danced  about  the  road  like  a  man  on 
springs,  shouting  "  Come  on,  ye  thieving  loons  I  Come 
on!" 

By  "  come,"  they  understood  "  go,"  took  to  their  heels 
directly,  with  Hans  after  them,  he  shouting  "  Stop 
thieves  1"  and  they  howling  with  fear  and  pain  as  they 
ran. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ABOUT  this  time  a  change  passed  over  Margaret  Brandt. 
She  went  about  her  household  duties  like  one  in  a  dream. 
If  Peter  did  but  speak  a  little  quickly  to  her,  she  started 
and  fixed  two  terrified  eyes  on  him.  She  went  less  often 
to  her  friend  Margaret  Van  Eyck,  and  was  ill  at  her  ease 
when  there.  Instead  of  meeting  her  warm  old  friend's 
caresses,  she  used  to  receive  them  passive  and  trembling, 
and  sometimes  almost  shrink  from  them.  But  the  most 
extraordinary  thing  was  she  never  would  go  outside  her 
own  bouse  in  daylight.  When  she  went  to  Tergou  it 
was  after  dusk,  and  she  returned  before  daybreak.  She 
would  not  even  go  to  matins.  At  last  Peter,  unobserv- 
ant as  he  was,  noticed  it,  and  asked  her  the  reason. 

"THE  FOLK  ALL  LOOK  AT  ME  SO." 

One  day,  Margaret  Van  Eyck  asked  her  what  was  the 
matter.  A  scared  look  and  a  flood  of  tears  were  all  the 
reply :  the  old  lady  expostulated  gently.  "  What,  sweet- 
heart, afraid  to  confide  your  sorrows  to  me  ?" 

"  I  have  no  sorrows,  madam,  but  of  my  own  making. 
I  am  kinder  treated  than  I  deserve,  especially  in  this 
house." 

"  Then  why  not  come  oftener,  my  dear  ?" 


190  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"I  come  oftener  than  I  deserve:"  and  she  sighed 
deeply. 

"  There,  Bicht  is  crying  out  for  you,"  said  Margaret 
Van  Eyck ;  "  go,  child !  what  on  earth  can  it  be  ?" 

Turning  possibilities  over  in  her  mind,  she  thought 
Margaret  must  be  mortified  at  the  contempt  with  which 
she  was  treated  by  Gerard's  family.  "  I  will  take  them 
to  task  for  it,  at  least  such  of  them  as  are  women ;"  and 
the  very  next  day  she  put  on  her  hood  and  cloak,  and 
followed  by  Richt  went  to  the  hosier's  house.  Catherine 
received  her  with  much  respect,  and  thanked  her  with 
tears  for  her  kindness  to  Gerard.  But  when,  encour- 
aged by  this,  her  visitor  diverged  to  Margaret  Brandt, 
Catherine's  eyes  dried,  and  her  lips  turned  to  half  the 
size,  and  she  looked  as  only  obstinate,  ignorant  women 
can  look.  When  they  put  on  this  cast  of  features,  you 
might  as  well  try  to  soften  or  convince  a  brick  wall. 
Margaret  Van  Eyck  tried,  but  all  in  vain.  So  then,  not 
being  herself  used  to  be  thwarted,  she  got  provoked,  and 
at  last  went  out  hastily  with  an  abrupt  and  mutilated 
courtesy,  which  Catherine  returned  with  an  air  rather 
of  defiance  than  obeisance.  Outside  the  door  Margaret 
Van  Eyck  found  Richt  conversing  with  a  pale  girl  on 
crutches.  Margaret  Van  Eyck  was  passing  them  with 
heightened  color,  and  a  scornful  toss  intended  for  the 
whole  family,  when  suddenly  a  little  delicate  hand  glided 
timidly  into  hers,  and  looking  round  she  saw  two  dove- 
like  eyes,  with  the  water  in  them,  that  sought  hers  grate- 
fully, and,  at  the  same  time,  imploringly.  The  old  lady 
read  this  wonderful  look,  complex  as  it  was,  and  down 
went  her  choler.  She  stooped  and  kissed  Kate's  brow. 
"  I  see,"  said  she.  "  Mind,  then,  I  leave  it  to  you."  Re- 
turned home,  she  said,  "  I  have  been  to  a  house  to-day 
where  I  have  seen  a  very  common  thing  and  a  very  un- 
common thing :  I  have  seen  a  stupid,  obstinate  woman, 
and  I  have  seen  an  angel  in  the  flesh,  with  a  face — if  I 
had  it  here  I'd  take  down  my  brushes  once  more,  and  try 
and  paint  it." 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  191 

Little  Kate  did  not  belie  the  good  opinion  so  hastily 
formed  of  her.  She  waited  a  better  opportunity,  and 
told  her  mother  what  she  had  learned  from  Richt  Heynes, 
that  Margaret  had  shed  her  very  blood  for  Gerard  in  the 
wood. 

"  See,  mother,  how  she  loves  him." 

"  Who  would  not  love  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  mother,  think  of  it !     Poor  thing !" 

"  Ay,  wench.  She  has  her  own  trouble,  no  doubt,  as 
well  as  we  ours.  I  can't  abide  the  sight  of  blood,  let 
alone  my  own." 

This  was  a  point  gained ;  but  when  Kate  tried  to  fol- 
low it  up  she  was  stopped  short. 

About  a  month  after  this  a  soldier  of  the  Dalgetty 
tribe,  returning  from  service  hi  Tuscany,  brought  a  letter 
one  evening  to  the  hosier's  house.  He  was  away  on  bus- 
iness :  but  the  rest  of  the  family  sat  at  supper.  The  sol- 
dier laid  the  letter  on  the  table  by  Catherine,  and  telling 
them  he  had  his  guerdon  for  bringing  it,  went  off  to  Sev- 
enbergen. 

Although  for  a  long  tune  they  had  hoped  and  expect- 
ed this,  yet  when  it  did  come  it  took  them  by  surprise. 

The  letter  was  unfolded  and  spread  out :  and  curiously 
enough,  though  not  one  of  them  could  read,  they  could 
all  tell  it  was  Gerard's  handwriting. 

"And  your  father  must  be  away,"  cried  Catherine. 
"  Are  ye  not  ashamed  of  yourselves  ?  not  one  that  can 
read  your  brother's  letter  ?" 

But  although  the  words  were  to  them  what  hiero- 
glyphics are  to  us,  there  was  something  in  the  letter  they 
could  read.  There  is  an  art  can  speak  without  words : 
unfettered  by  the  penman's  limits,  it  can  steal  through 
the  eye  into  the  heart,  and  brain,  alike  of  the  learned  and 
unlearned,  and  it  can  cross  a  frontier  or  a  sea,  yet  lose 
nothing.  It  is  at  the  mercy  of  no  translator :  for  it  writes 
a  universal  language. 

When,  therefore,  they  saw  this, 


192  A    GOOD    FIGHT. 


which  Gerard  had  drawn  with  his  pencil  between  the 
two  short  paragraphs  of  which  his  letter  consisted,  they 
read  it,  and  it  went  straight  to  their  hearts. 

Gerard  was  bidding  them  farewell. 

As  they  gazed  on  that  simple  sketch,  in  every  turn  and 
line  of  which  they  recognized  his  manner,  Gerard  seemed 
present,  and  bidding  them  farewell. 

The  women  wept  over  it  till  they  could  see  it  no 
longer. 

Giles  said,  "Poor  Gerard!"  in  a  lower  voice  than 
seemed  to  belong  to  him. 

Even  Cornells  and  Sybrandt  felt  a  momentary  remorse, 
and  sat  eying  it  gloomily. 

But  how  to  get  the  words  read  to  them.  They  were 
loth  to  show  their  ignorance  and  emotion  to  a  stranger. 

"  The  Dame  Van  Eyck  ?"  said  Kate,  timidly. 

"  And  so  I  will,  Kate.  She  has  a  good  heart.  She 
loves  Gerard,  too.  She  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  him.  I 
was  short  with  her  when  she  came  here,  but  I  will  make 
my  submission,  and  then  she  will  tell  me  what  my  poor 
child  says  to  me." 

She  was  soon  at  Margaret  Van  Eyck's  house.  Richt 
took  her  into  a  room,  and  said,  "Bide  a  minute;  she  is 
at  her  orisons." 

There  was  a  young  woman  in  the  room  seated  pensive- 
ly by  the  stove ;  but  she  rose  and  courteously  made  way 
for  the  visitor.  * 

"  Thank  you,  young  lady ;  the  winter  nights  are  cold, 
and  your  stove  is  inviting."  Catherine  then,  while  warm- 
ing her  hands,  inspected  her  companion  furtively  from 


A   GOOD   FIGHT.  193 

head  to  foot,  both  inclusive.  The  young  person  wore  an 
ordinary  wimple,  but  her  gown  was  trimmed  with  fur, 
which  was,  in  those  days,  almost  a  sign  of  superior  rank 
or  wealth.  ,But  what  most  struck  Catherine  was  the 
candor  and  modesty  of  the  face.  She  felt  sure  of  sym- 
pathy from  so  good  a  countenance,  and  began  to  gossip. 

"  Now,  what  think  you  brings  me  here,  young  lady  ? 
It  is  a  letter :  a  letter  from  my  poor  boy  that  is  far  away 
in  some  savage  part  or  other.  And  I  take  shame  to  say 
that  none  of  us  can  read  it.  I  wonder  whether  you  can 
read." 

"Yes." 

"  Can  ye,  now  ?  It  is  much  to  your  credit,  my  dear. 
I  dare  say  she  won't  be-  long ;  but  every  minute  is  an 
hour  to  a  poor  longing  mother." 

"  I  will  read  it  to  you." 

"  Bless  you,  my  dear ;  bless  you !" 

In  her  unfeigned  eagerness  she  never  noticed  the  sup- 
pressed eagerness  with  which  the  hand  was  slowly  put 
out  to  take  the  letter.  She  did  not  see  the  tremor  with 
which  the  fingers  closed  on  it. 

"  Come,  then,  read  it  to  me,  prithee.  I  am  wearying 
for  it." 

"  The  first  words  are, '  To  my  honored  parents.' " 

"  Ay !  and  he  always  did  honor  us,  poor  soul." 

" '  God  and  the  saints  have  you  in  his  holy  keeping, 
and  bless  you  by  night  and  by  day.  Your  one  harsh 
deed  is  forgotten ;  your  years  of  love,  remembered.'  " 

Catherine  laid  her  hand  on  her  bosom,  and  sank  back 
in  her  chair  with  one  heart-broken  sob. 

"  Then  comes  this,  madam.  It  speaks  for  itself.  A 
long  adieu." 

"  Ay,  go  on,  bless  you,  girl ;  you  give  me  sorry  com- 
fort. Still,  'tis  comfort." 

"  *  To  my  brothers  Cornelis  and  Sybrandt.  Be  con- 
tent. You  will  see  me  no  more !'  " 

I 


194  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

"What  does  that  mean?  Ah!  has  he  seen  what  I 
have :  or  more  ?" 

" '  To  my  sister  Kate.  Little  angel  of  my  father's 
house.  Be  kind  to  her — '  Ah !" 

"  That  is  Margaret  Brandt,  my  dear — his  sweetheart, 
poor  soul.  I've  not  been  land  to  her.  Forgive  me,  Ge- 
rard !" 

"  '  Fqr  poor  Gerard's  sake :  since  grief  to  her  is  death 
— to — me — '  Ah !"  And  nature,  resenting  the  poor 
girl's  struggle  for  unnatural  composure,  suddenly  gave 
way,  and  she  sank  from  her  chair  and  lay  insensible,  with 
her  head  on  Catherine's  knees. 


CHAPTER  XXXIH. 

•  EXPERIENCED  women  are  not  frightened  when  a  wom- 
an faints,  nor  do  they  hastily  attribute  it  to  any  thing 
but  those  physical  causes  which  they  have  often  seen 
produce  it.  Catherine  bustled  about ;  laid  the  girl  down 
with  her  head  on  the  floor  quite  flat,  opened  the  window, 
and  unloosed  her  dress  as  she  lay.  Not  till  she  had  done 
all  this  did  she  step  to  the  door  and  say,  rather  loudly, 

"  Come  here,  if  you  please." 

Margaret  Van  Eyck  and  Richt  came  and  found  Mar- 
garet lying  quite  flat,  and  Catherine  beating  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  girl,  what  has  happened !" 

"  Nothing,  madam ;  nothing  more  than  is  natural  in 
her  situation."  > 

"  My  poor  Margaret !" 

"  Margaret !    What,  not  Margaret  Brandt  ?" 

"  Yes !  this  is  the  poor  girl  you  are  so  bitter  against. 
She  is  coming  to,  thank  heaven!" 

"  Me  bitter  ?  Well,  so  I  was ;  but  my  heart  is  turned 
toward  her  somehow,  as  she  was  my  own  child — all  in 
one  moment.  What,  sweetheart  ?  Be  not  frightened, 


A  GOOD  FIGHT.  195 

none  are  here  but  friends.  And  to  think  of  my  setting 
her  to  read  me  the  letter — poor  thing !" 

They  seated  her  in  an  easy-chair.  As  the  color  was 
creeping  back  to  her  face  and  lips,  Catherine  drew  Mar- 
garet Van  Eyck  aside. 

"  I  would  not  let  her  go  home  to-night." 

To  enforce  this  she  whispered  a  few  words.  Margaret 
Van  Eyck  started  at  them,  and  without  going  out  of  a 
whisper,  went  into  a  passion. 

"  It's  false !  it  is  a  calumny !  it  is  monstrous !  Look 
at  her  face.  It  is  blasphemy  to  accuse  such  a  face." 

"  Tut !  tut !  tut !"  said  the  other,  "  you  might  as  well 
say  this  is  not  my  hand !  I  ought  to  know.  I  have  had 
a  dozen,  besides  the  numbers  I  have  seen.  I  tell  ye  it  is 
so." 

And  much  to  Margaret  Van  Eyck's  surprise  she  went 
up  to  the  girl,  and,  taking  her  round  the  neck,  kissed  her 
warmly.  "I  suffered  for  Gerard,  and  you  shed  your 
blood  for  him,  I  do  hear :  his  own  words  show  >me  I 
have  been  to  blame.  I've  held  aloof  from  you.  But  I'll 
make  it  up  to  you  once  I  begin.  You  are  my  daughter 
from  this  hour." 

Another  warm  embrace  sealed  this  hasty  compact,  and 
the  woman  of  impulse  was  gone. 

Margaret  lay  back  in  her  chair,  and  a  feeble  smile  stole 
over  her  face.  Gerard's  mother  had  kissed  her  and  call- 
ed her  daughter.  But  the  next  moment  she  saw  her  old 
friend  looking  at  her  with  a  .solemnity  and  sadness  that 
were  quite  new.  She  slid  from  her  chair  to  her  knees 
and  prayed  piteously  to  the  old  dame  for  pardon.  From 
the  words  and  the  manner  of  her  penitence  a  bystander 
would  have  gathered  she  had  inflicted  some  cruel  wrong 
and  intolerable  insult  upon  her  venerable  friend. 

The  little  party  at  the  hosier's  house  sat  at  table  dis- 
cussing the  recent  event,  when  their  mother  returned, 
and,  casting  a  piercing  glance  all  round  the  little  circle, 
laid  the  letter  flat  on  the  table.  She  repeated  every 


196  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

word  of  it,  following  the  lines  with  her  finger,  then  sud- 
denly lifting  her  head  she  cast  another  keen  look  on  Cor- 
nelis  and  Sybrandt :  their  eyes  fell.  Then  the  storm  that 
had  long  been  brewing  burst  on  their  heads. 

Catherine  seemed  to  swell  like  an  angry  hen  ruffling 
her  feathers,  and  out  of  her  mouth  came  a  Rhone  and 
Saone  of  wisdom  and  twaddle,  of  great  and  mean  in- 
vective, such  as  no  male  that  ever  was  born  could  utter 
in  one  current ;  and  not  many  women.  "  I  have  long 
had  my  doubts  that  you  blew  the  flame  betwixt  Gerard* 
and  your  father,  and  set  that  old  rogue  Ghysbrecht  on. 
And  now  here  are  Gerard's  own  written  words  to  prove 
it.  You  have  driven  your  own  flesh  and  blood  into  a 
far  land,  and  robbed  the  mother  that  bore  you  of  her 
darling,  the  pride  of  her  eye,  the  joy  of  her  heart.  But 
you  are  of  a  piece  from  end  to  end.  When  you  were  all 
boys  together,  my  others  were  a  comfort,  but  you  were 
a  curse :  mischievous  and  sly,  and  it  took  a  woman  half 
her  day  to  keep  your  clothes  whole.  For  why?  work 
wears  cloth,  but  play  cuts  it.  With  the  beard  conies 
prudence,  but  none  came  to  you.  Still  the  last  to  go  to 
bed,  and  the  last  to  leave  it ;  and  why  ?  because  honesty 
goes  to  bed  early,  and  industry  rises  betimes.  Where 
there  are  two  lie-a-beds  in  a  house,  there  are  a  pair  of 
ne'er-do-weels.  Often  I've  sat  and  looked  at  your  ways 
and  wondered  where  you  came  from.  You  don't  take 
after  your  father,  and  you  are  no  more  like  me  than  a 
wasp  is  to  an  ant.  Sure  you  were  changed  in  the  cradle, 
or  the  cuckoo  dropped  ye  on  my  floor :  for  you  have  not 
our  hands,  nor  our  hearts ;  of  all  my  blood  none  but  you 
ever  jeered  them  that  God  afflicted ;  but  often  when 
my  back  was  turned  I've  heard  you  mock  at  Giles,  be- 
cause he  is  not  so  big  as  some,  and  at  my  lily  Kate  (that 
is  poor  dear  Gerard's  word),  because  she  is  not  so  strong 
as  a  Flanders  mare.  After  that  rob  a  church  an'  you 
will,  for  you  can  be  no  worse  in  his  eyes  that  made  both 
Kate  and  Giles,  and  in  mine  that  suffered  for  them,  poor 


A   GOOD  FIGHT.  197 

darlings,  as  I  did  for  you,  you  paltry,  unfeeling,  treason- 
able curs !  No,  I  Avill  not  hush,  my  daughter,  they  have 
filled  the  cup  too  full.  It  takes  a  deal  to  turn  a  mother's 
heart  against  the  sons  she  has  nursed  upon  her  knees ; 
and  many  is  the  time  I  have  winked  and  wouldn't  see 
too  much,  and  bitten  my  tongue  lest  their  father  should 
know  them  as  I  do ;  he  would  have  put  them  to  the  door 
that  moment.  But  now  they  have  filled  the  cup  too  full. 
And  where  got  ye  all  this  money  ?  You  never  wrought 
for  it.  I  wish  I  may  never  hear  from  other  mouths  how 
ye  got  it.  Sloth  and  greed  are  ill-mated,  my  masters : 
lovers  of  money  must  sweat  or  steal.  Well,  if  you  rob- 
bed a  traveler  of  it,  it  was  some  woman  I'll  go  bail,  for 
a  man  would  drive  you  with  his  naked  hand.  No  mat- 
ter ;  it  is  good  for  one  thing,  it  has  shown  me  how  you 
will  guide  our  gear  if  ever  it  comes  to  be  yourn. 

"  I  have  watched  you,  my  lads,  this  while — you  have 
spent  a  groat  a  day  between  you,  and  I  spend  scarce  a 
groat  a  week,  and  keep  you  all,  good  and  bad.  No! 
give  up  waiting  for  the  shoes  that  will,  may  be,  walk  be- 
hind your  coffin,  for  this  shop  and  this  house  shall  never 
be  yours.  Gerard  is  our  heir — poor  Gerard  whom  you 
have  banished  and  done  your  best  to  kill ;  never  call  me 
mother  again!  But  you  have  only  made  him  tenfold 
dearer  to  me.  My  poor  lost  boy !  I  shall  soon  see  him 
again,  shall  hold  him  hi  my  arms  and  set  him  on  my 
knees.  Oh,  you  may  stare.  You  are  too  clever,  and  yet 
not  clever  enough.  You  cut  the  stalk  away,  but  you 
left  the  seed — the  seed  that  shall  outgrow  you,  and  out- 
live you.  Margaret  Brandt  is  quick,  and  it  is  Gerard's, 
and  what  is  Gerard's  is  mine,  and  I  have  prayed  the 
saints  it  may  be  a  boy,  and  it  will — it  must.  Oh,  Kate, 
when  I  found  it  was  so,  my  bowels  yearned  over  her 
child  unborn  as  if  it  had  been  my  own ! 

"  He  is  our  heir.  He  will  outlive  us.  You  will  not ; 
for  a  bad  heart  in  a  carcass  is  like  the  worm  in  a  nut ; 
soon  brings  the  body  to  dust.  So,  Kate,  take  down 


198  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

Gerard's  bib  and  tucker  that  are  in  the  drawer  you  wot 
of,  and  to-morrow  we  will  carry  them  to  Sevenbergen. 
We  will  borrow  Peter  Buysken's  cart  and  go  comfort 
Gerard's  wife  under  her  burden.  She  is  his  wife.  Who 
is  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten  ?  Can  he  come  between  a 
couple  and  the  altar,  and  sunder  those  that  God  and  the 
priest  make  one?  She  is  my  daughter;  and  I  am  as 
proud  of  her  as  I  am  of  you,  Kate  :  and  as  for  you,  keep 
out  of  my  way  awhile,  for  you  are  like  the  black  dog  in 
my  eyes." 

Cornelis  and  Sybrandt  took  the  hint  and  slunk  out, 
aching  with  remorse,  and  impenitence,  and  hate.  They 
kept  out  of  her  sight  for  days ;  and  she  never  spoke  to 
them  again  about  their  conduct.  Liberaverat  animam 
suam. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

GHYSBRECHT  VAN  SWIETEN  heard  no  more  of  the 
black  sheep  for  two  days.  Then  they  came  and  pro- 
duced the  letter  they  had  taken  from  Hans  Memling 
before  he  leathered  them — and  claimed  their  reward. 
The  drawer  was  opened,  and  in  went  their  hands.  Sy- 
brandt had  slyly  glued  his  without  telling  Cornelis,  for 
black  sheep  are  not  always  loyal  to  one  another :  so  some 
small  coins  stuck  to  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  he  got 
more  for  his  soul  than  his  brother  did.  When  they  were 
gone  Ghysbrecht  opened  the  letter,  and  found,  to  his  sur- 
prise, it  was  written  by  Margaret  Brandt.  In  it  the  poor 
girl  revealed  her  situation  to  her  lover,  and  besought  him 
tenderly  to  return  and  save  her  honor.  Her  love  and 
her  sorrow  had  found  words  so  simple  and  touching  that 
Ghysbrecht  felt  a  deeper  pang  of  remorse  than  ever,  and 
cursed  the  hour  he  had  fallen  into  the  views  of  Cornelis 
and  Sybrandt.  But  it  was  too  late. 

Hans  was  far  away  with  the  fatal  letter  to  tell  Gerard 
Margaret  was  dead. 


A  GOOD  FIGHT.  199 

While  Ghysbrecht  was  in  this  state,  he  received  a 
summons  to  answer  a  charge  made  against  him  by  the 
bishop  of  the  diocese,  for  entering  a  church  profanely, 
and  interrupting  the  sacrament  of  marriage  by  force  and 
arms. 

The  cure  of  Sevenbergen  was  a  mild  man,  and  had  sub- 
mitted to  that  insult:  but  he  related  it  months  after- 
ward to  others  of  the  clergy,  and  they  took  it  up  instant- 
ly with  ardor,  and  an  esprit  du  corps,  that  boded  ill  for 
the  lay  defendant.  Soon  the  lawyers  had  their  word: 
and  after  much  discussion  they  settled  it  thus :  That  on 
a  special  and  written  authority  from  the  father  of  either 
bride  or  bridegroom,  the  magistrate  might  stop  a  mar- 
riage even  at  the  altar,  provided  he  did  it  decently,  and 
sine  strepitu,  and  in  a  certain  form,  viz.,  by  a  writ  first 
delivered  to  the  officiating  priest :  but  that  on  a  general 
authority  naming  no  tune  nor  place,  or  on  an  unwritten 
authority,  he  could  do  no  act  of  such  weight,  this  being 
an  interference  with  the  clergy  in  their  proper  functions, 
and  in  domicilio  sancto.  On  the  above  particulars  a 
month  was  given  Ghysbrecht  to  furnish  evidence.  But 
this  decision  was  in  reality  fatal  to  him.  He  had  no 
written  authority  from  Gerard  senior.  He  had  not  done 
his  act  in  the  form  by  law  prescribed,  and  by  no  means 
sine  strepitu.  Weighing  this,  and  knowing  from  Mar- 
tin Wittenhaagen  that  the  Duke  was  prejudiced  against 
him,  he  was  deeply  dejected.  In  which  state  a  still 
heavier  blow  fell  on  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

GERARD,  who  had  all  his  parent's  economy,  intended 
to  make  his  pen  defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey.  But 
when  he  got  into  Germany  he  found  the  art  of  printing 
universal,  and  so  beautifully  executed  that  he  could  not 
go  beyond  it.  Besides 


200  A   GOOD  FIGHT. 

Imprimit  una  dies  quantum  non  scribitur  anno. 
He  had  the  modesty  and  the  sense  to  see  that  the  best 
man  can't  vie  with  good  machinery.  He  pushed  on  to 
Italy,  afraid  printing  would  get  there  before  him.  The 
Burgomaster's  money  enabled  him  to  travel  more  quick- 
ly than  most  pedestrians ;  but  when  he  got  to  Florence 
his  funds  had  sadly  dwindled.  He  found  no  printing  to 
speak  of  at  Florence,  and  a  great  demand  for  scribes. 

But  alas !  the  run  was  mainly  upon  Greek  MSS.,  and 
Gerard,  though  he  knew  the  Greek  character,  had  no 
skill  to  write  it.  But  he  set  to  work  with  a  will  and 
practiced  it.  When  he  had,  at  last,  mastered  it,  he 
thought  he  would  prepare  a  specimen  of  his  powers,  sur- 
rounded with  a  border  of  fruit  and  leaves. 

Should  he  buy  a  fair  piece  of  vellum  to  lay  it  on  ? 
No ;  he  was  Catherine's  son :  why  buy  what  he  had  by 
him  ?  That  old  deed  was  on  fair  vellum :  it  was  dirty, 
but  then  he  had  a  receipt  for  cleaning  vellum.  He  laid 
the  deed  on  the  table  and  took  his  knife  to  cut  it  in  half, 
intending  to  glue  the  written  faces  of  the  two  halves  to- 
gether, and  so  make  a  glorious  solid  sheet. 

Now,  as  he  bent  over  it,  a  word  or  two  excited  his 
curiosity.  "  Gently,"  said  he ;  "  let  me  not  destroy  it  till 
I  know  what  it  is :  it  belongs  to  her" 

Accordingly  he  read  it ;  and,  as  he  read  it,  his  cheeks 
got  hot,  and  his  heart  began  to  beat.  When  he  had  read 
it,  he  studied  it ;  and  the  more  he  studied  it,  the  more 
sure  he  was  that  there  was  something  much  better  to  be 
done  with  it  than  copy  Plutarch  on  it. 

He  sat  reading  and  pondering  it;  and  so  absorbed 
that  he  missed  the  sight  of  a  face  from  Holland.  Hans 
Memling  passed  his  little  window  twice,  but  Gerard 
never  saw  him. 

At  peep  of  day  Gerard  left  Florence. 

Friend  and  foe  had  shot  at  him  with  love  and  with 
hate,  and  each  missed  him  alike.  Neither  Margaret's 
imploring  cry  to  him  to  return  reached  him,  nor  did  the 


A   GOOD  FIGHT.  201 

false  report  of  her  death  reach  him,  though  it  grazed  so 
horribly  near  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

MARGARET  stole  away  to  Sevenbergen  at  peep  of  day ; 
there  she  found  the  soldier  had  left  her  a  long  letter  from 
Gerard.  The  thousand  tender  words  of  love  filled  her 
with  joy ;  but  the  letter  was  dated  from  Florence,  and 
the  distance  filled  her  with  dismay.  "  Oh,  Gerard !"  she 
cried,  "  why  are  you  so  far  from  me  ?  What  will  become 
of  me  if  you  get  not  my  letter  ?  I  shall  die  disgraced, 
for  live  ashamed  I  can  not."  Soon  after  breakfast  Cath- 
erine came,  true  to  her  promise,  and  was  so  warm,  so 
cheerful,  and  motherly,  that  she  revived  the  drooping 
flower.  Little  Kate  was  unable  to  come.  She  was  in 
more  pain  than  usual.  From  this  time  the  visits  of 
Catherine  were  frequent.  Margaret's  despondent  state 
caused  her  considerable  anxiety.  She  never  would  come 
to  Tergou ;  and  indeed  would  not  leave  the  house.  "  I 
held  my  head  too  high,"  she  said,  "  and  now  I  can  look 
no  one  in  the  face.  The  dame  Van  Eyck  tries  to  forgive 
me,  but  she  can't :  how  can  she  ?  None  can  save  me 
but  one,  and  he  comes  not ;  well-a-day !" 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Catherine,  "  you^re  his  wife,  and  my 
daughter ;  and  don't  ye  go  fretting  now,  for  the  sake  of 
the  precious  burden  you  are  trusted  with."  But  when 
it  transpired  publicly  that  the  clergy  were  proceeding 
against  Ghysbrecht,  Catherine  came  to  Sevenbergen 
buoyant  with  the  news ;  and  as  she  told  it  with  a  fair 
share  of  exaggeration,  it  brought  life  into  Margaret's 
pale  face  for  a  moment  or  two. 

One  day,  as  Peter  was  reading  and  Margaret  leaning 
her  weary  head  on  her  new  mother's  bosom  and  kissing 
her  hand,  and  the  kind  Catherine  leaning  her  head  down 

12 


202  A   GOOD  FIGHT.  "    f 

with  assumed  cheerfulness,  but  secret  anxiety,  over  this 
her  pining  daughter,  so  dear  to  her  now,  there  stood  in 
the  door-way  the  figure  of  a  man  in  rags,  weary  with 
travel,  pale,  large  eyed.  Peter  glanced  off  his  book,  and 
said,  "  Pass  on,  good  man,  we  are  too  poor  to  give,"  then 
back  to  his  book  again. 

There  was  a  swift  rush,  a  staff  rattled  on  the  floor, 
and  the  worn  man  was  on  his  knees,  with  his  arms  round 
both  the  women,  speechless  and  panting  for  joy. 

"  Ah !  my  darling !  my  darling !"  cried  his  mother,  as 
only  a  mother  can  cry ;  and  Margaret  clung  tight  to  him 
with  one  long  moan  of  love,  and  sobbed,  and  laughed, 
and  wept  upon  his  neck. 

But  words  have  not  the  power  to  paint  a  joy  so  sud- 
den, so  wild,  so  all-overpowering. 

An  hour  later  Gerard  sat  between  the  two,  a  hand  of 
each  in  his  hand,  and  ever  and  anon  kissing  a  cheek  of 
each  alternately  as  he  told  his  story. 

"  Dear  Gerard,  'twas  my  letter  brought  you  ?" 

"  No,  Margaret,  I  got  no  letter.  'Twas  this  brought 
me,  this  deed  which  shows  me  your  father  is  a  wealthy 
man ;  his  father's  goods  being  wrongfully  kept  from  iiim 
by  Ghysbrecht  Van  Swieten ;  I  only  found  it  out  at 
Florence.  Was  I  to  go  on,  and  leave  you  in  poverty, 
when  I  held  this  talisman  to  make  you  rich  ?" 

"  I  am  rich  in  your  love.  I  ask  no  more.  Oh,  mother, 
can  this  be  real  ?  can  any  woman  be  so  happy  and  live?" 

"  Why  not  ?  what  would  she  gain  by  dying  ?  Gerard, 
you  and  I  must  talk  about  that  deed ;  this  one  is  too 
simple :  and  now,  quick,  to  Tergou." 

"  Ay ;  but  how  can  I  leave  Margaret  so  soon  ?" 

"  Mother,  he  loves  me  still.  I'll  come  too,  Gerard, 
sooner  than  the  rest  should  want  you." 

And  Margaret  was  half  an  hour  making  the  little 
changes  in  her  clothes  and  hair,  that  of  late  had  not  kept 
her  five  minutes. 

And  she  came  down  transformed :  elastic,  and  radiant 
with  beauty. 


A  GOOD  FIGHT.  203 

"  Good  lack !"  cried  Catherine,  "  we  shall  want  no 
candles  with  this  one  in  the  room!" 

And  hi  Buysken's  cart  went  Gerard  in  rags  to  Tergou, 
with  a  dear  hand  in  each  of  his,  the  happiest  he  in  Hol- 
land. 

Arrived  at  Tergou,  his  Spartan  sire  fell  on  his  neck 
and  kissed  him ;  and  no  word  was  uttered  but  of  love 
and  content ;  and  little  Kate's  face  was  seraphic,  and  her 
hand  crept  alternately  into  Margaret's  and  Gerard's. 
And  as  they  talked,  and  sometimes  sighed — sometimes 
rejoiced  over  all  their  troubles  now  happily  ended — their 
glistening  eyes  and  nimble  fingers  were  all  busy  making 
Gerard  a  suit  of  decent  clothes.  They  hadn't  far  to  go 
for  the  cloth,  you  know. 

Next  day,  when  Gerard  went  to  ask  the  cure*  to  marry 
him,  an  objection  was  raised :  "  This  has  been  discussed, 
and  it  is  matter  of  great  doubt  whether  you  are  not 
married :  if  so,  it  were  a  sin  to  repeat  the  ceremony. 
This  were  to  throw  doubt  upon  a  sacrament."  Gerard 
exclaimed  and  entreated,  and  at  last  it  was  settled  thus : 
no  fresh  bans ;  the  words  the  cure  had  uttered  not  to 
be  repeated ;  the  service  to  be  taken  up  from  the  point 
reached  at  the  last  attempt ;  the  marriage  to  be  regis- 
tered as  having  taken  place  at  that  date,  Ghysbrecht's 
interruption  having  been  laic,  profane,  illegal,  null.  On 
these  terms  the  cure  consented  to  read  the  rest  of  the 
mutilated  service — and  to  take  the  fees. 

The  piece  of  parchment  was  a  covenant  by  which 
Ghysbrecht  had  advanced  money,  many  years  ago,  to 
Floris  Brandt,  on  the  security  of  certain  lands  and 
houses;  Ghysbrecht  to  draw  the  rents  until  said  sum 
should  be  repaid :  but,  comparing  the  income  with  the 
debt  and  date  of  loan,  it  was  clear  it  had  been  repaid 
this  sixteen  years.  Yet  Ghysbrecht  had  quietly  gone  on 
holding  the  property,  without  a  rag  of  title ;  and  trust- 
ing to  the  learned  Peter's  stupidity,  had  set  it  afloat  that 
he  had  bought  it  of  Floris  Brandt.  Thus  not  only  the 


204  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

property  was  Peter's,  but  the  back-rents  for  many  years. 
As  for  the  title-deeds,  Gerard  rummaged  the  philoso- 
pher's house  without  much  hope.  "  He  has  cut  them  up 
for  labels,"  said  he.  Unjust!  They  were  eventually 
found  innocuously  lining  a  drawer,  which  was  full  of  the 
seeds  of  medicinal  herbs,  and  really  arranged  with  con- 
siderable method  —  the  seeds.  Gerard's  father  was  a 
shrewd  man,  and  had  many  friends  in  Tergou :  he  and 
his  party  took  the  matter  up,  and  threatened  to  indict 
Ghysbrecht  if  he  did  not  instantly  refund ;  these  press- 
ing him  hard  on  one  side,  and  the  clergy,  whom  he  had 
affronted,  on  the  other,  Ghysbrecht's  rum  and  disgrace 
impended. 

But  the  old  fox  contrived  to  give  his  foes  the  slip.  He 
was  found  dead  in  his  bed  one  morning ;  not  without 
some  suspicion  of  having  hastened  an  exit  desirable  for 
himself  and  others.  ' 

His  heir,  a  distant  relative  and  a  just  man,  deprecated 
scandal,  and  accounted  to  Peter,  or  rather  to  Gerard,  his 
son-in-law  and  man  of  business,  for  every  farthing  due. 
Gerard  and  Margaret  then  removed  to  Rotterdam,  taking 
with  them  Peter,  who  met  with  more  honor  in  the  city 
than  in  the  village,  and  had  the  glory  of  curing  several 
personages,  among  the  rest  a  heathen  belonging  to  the 
Duke.  He  lived  to  a  great  age,  cherished  tenderly  by 
his  good  son  and  daughter.  He  soon  ceased  to  be  aware 
that  they  were  not  both  his  children  by  blood. 

Gerard  and  Margaret,  like  many  that  meet  in  youth 
more  than  their  share  of  trouble,  enjoyed  more  happiness 
and  tranquillity  than  falls  to  the  usual  lot  of  man. 

The  Duke  on  the  report  of  his  giant  sent  flaming  mes- 
sengers for  Giles  to  come  to  court.  Yain  was  all  remon- 
strance. The  Duke's  word  was  law.  Catherine  made 
Giles  ready,  weeping  bitterly.  It  was  an  irreparable  loss. 
She  could  have  spared  Sybrandt  or  Cornelis.  She  had 
two  black  sheep.  But  she  had  but  one  dwarf. 

Giles  was  petted  and  bedizened,  and  invested  with 


A   GOOD  FIGHT.  205 

privileges.  Item — on  account  of  his  small  size  he  was 
permitted  to  speak  the  truth.  It  sounded  so  odd  at 
court.  It  is  a  disagreeable  thing  at  best;  but  he  con- 
trived to  make  it  more  so  by  bellowing  it. 

Sybrandt  achieved  a  broken  neck  without  help  of  halt- 
er, I  forget  how.  Cornelis,  free  from  all  rivals,  and  for- 
given long  ago  by  his  mother,  who  clung  to  him  more 
and  more  now  all  her  brood  was  scattered,  waited,  and 
waited,  and  waited,  for  his  parents'  decease.  But  his 
mother's  shrewd  word  came  true :  ere  she  and  her  mate 
wore  out,  this  worthy  rusted  away.  At  sixty-five  he  lay 
dying  of  old  age  in  his  mother's  arms,  a  hale  woman  of 
eighty-six.  He  had  lain  unconscious  awhile;  but  came 
to  himself  in  articulo  mortis,  and  seeing  her  near  him, 
told  her  how  he  would  transmogrify  the  shop  and  prem- 
ises as  soon  as  they  should  be  his.  "  Yes,  my  darling," 
said  the  poor  old  woman,  soothingly ;  and  in  another 
minute  he  was  clay.  And  that  clay  was  followed  to  the 
grave  by  all  the  shoes  he  had  waited  for. 

After  his  death  the  old  couple  were  lonely.  Gerard 
guessed  as  much,  and  came  for  them,  and  made  them 
sell  their  shop  and  goods,  and  live  under  his  wing,  as  he 
had  once  under  theirs.  His  house  was  large,  his  heart 
was  larger.  He  set  them  by  his  chimney-corner,  and  he 
and  his  good  Margaret  forced  comforts  on  them  they 
would  by  force  of  habit  have  denied  themselves.  They 
sat  some  years  by  Gerard's  hearth,  and  fondled  little 
heads,  and  smiled  at  one  another,  and  spoke  of  early 
days,  and  grew  like  one  another ;  and  their  wrinkled 
faces  had  still  a  beauty,  for  they  shone  with  benignity. 
Oh,  happy  end  of  lives  well  spent  f  All  the  passions  gone, 
all  the  affections  left.  Good  citizens  these,  and  good 
spouses.  They  reared  many  children  in  probity  and  pie- 
ty, and  never  did  holy  wedlock  show  holier  nor  more 
lovely  than  in  this  aged  happy  pair,  whose  solace  it  had 
been  for  threescore  years  and  ten. 

Long  and  long  before  this  little  Kate  had  left  her 


206  A   GOOD   FIGHT. 

trouble  behind  her.  There  was  too  much  angel  in  her 
face  for  a  long  abode  on  earth.  She  smiled  too  in  pain, 
another  sign.  Life  gave  her  but  few  joys,  so  it  was 
just  that  death  should  come  to  her  without  his  frown: 
and  thus  he  came.  She  was  seized  with  a  sudden  lassi- 
tude, and  a  cessation  of  that  pain  which  had  been  her 
companion  from  infancy.  Her  mother  tried  to  think  this 
was  a  change  for  the  better.  But  the  gossips  looked  at 
her  face  and  shook  their  heads,  and  said,  "  She  is  half 
way  to  the  saints."  Thus  painless  she  lay  two  days, 
foretasting  heaven.  When  she  was  near  her  end  she 
asked  for  Gerard's  little  boy ;  he  was  three  years  old. 
They  brought  him  and  set  him  on  the  bed ;  by  this  time 
she  was  past  speaking :  but  she  pointed  to  a  drawer : 
they  looked,  and  found  the  two  gold  pieces  Gerard  had 
given  her  years  ago.  Then  she  nodded  her  head  toward 
the  boy,  and  looked  anxious  lest  they  should  not  under- 
stand her.  But  they  did,  and  put  the  tokens  of  the 
father's  love,  so  faithfully  guarded,  into  the  boy's  hands : 
and  when  she  saw  his  little  fingers  close  on  them,  she 
smiled  content;  and  so,  having  disposed  of  her  little 
earthly  treasures,  she  yielded  her  immortal  jewel  to  God, 
and  passed  from  earth  so  calmly,  none  saw  her  go.  Ge- 
rard begged  to  have  her  crutches,  that  she  had  changed 
so  well  for  angel's  pinions  ;  and  he  set  them  in  his  ora- 
tory in  form  of  a  cross,  for  he  said,  "They  were  my 
darling  sister's  crutches,  but  now  they  are  the  relics  of  a 
saint."  He  never  forgot  her,  nor  did  his  memory  of  her 
ever  wax  dim :  when  he  was  quite  an  old  man  he  still 
spoke  of  her,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  of  the  one  mortal 
creature  he  had  known,  pure  from  all  earthly  dross. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


OF  A 


THIEF. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  THIEF. 


THE  readers  of  "  It  is  never  too  late  to  mend"  may  re- 
member that  the  chaplain  set  the  thief  to  write  his  life 
honestly.  He  was  not  to  whitewash,  and  then  gild  him- 
self, nor  yet  to  vent  one  long,  self-deceiving  howl  of  gen- 
eral, and  therefore  sham  penitence,  but  he  was  to  be,  with 
God's  help,  his  own  historian  and  sober  critic.  Accord- 
ingly, Thomas  Robinson  wrote  this  autobiography  in 

jail ;  and  my  readers  may  have  noticed  that  at  first 

I  intended  to  print  it  with  the  novel. 

It  cost  me  a  struggle  to  resign  this  intention,  for  it 
was  the  central  gem  of  my  little  coronet.  But  the  novel, 
without  the  autobiography,  was  five  ordinary  volumes 
by  printers'  calculation,  and  a  story  within  a  story  is  a 
frightful  flaw  in  art. 

Moreover,  I  was  attacking  settled,  long-standing  preju- 
dices. Prejudice  is  a  giant,  against  whom  Truth  and 
Humanity  need  to  be  defended  with  great  spirit,  and,  in 
some  desperate  cases,  with  a  tiger-like  ferocity :  "  XA  dur 
&ne  dur  aiguillon;"  but  there  must  be  some  judgment 
too ;  and,  take  my  word  for  it,  there  always  has  been 
some  judgment  used,  wherever  so  hard  a  battle  is  won. 
I  feared  then  to  multiply  paradoxes,  and  to  draw  once 
too  often  on  the  faith  of  the  public,  as  well  as  on  its  good 
heart,  I,  who  carried  no  personal  weight  with  me. 

But  I  think  my  readers  are  now  ripe  for  this  strange 
but  true  story,  and  I  dedicate  it  in  particular  to  such  as 
will  deign  to  accept  this  clew  to  my  method  in  writing. 

I  feign  probabilities;  I  record  improbabilities:  the 
former  are  conjectures,  the  latter  truths ;  mixed,  they 


212  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

make  a  thing  not  so  true  as  Gospel  nor  so  false  as  His- 
tory, viz.,  Fiction. 

When  I  startle  you  most,  think  twice  before  you  dis- 
believe me.  What  able  deceiver  aims  at  shocking  cre- 
dulity? Distrust  rather  my  oily  probabilities.  They 
should  be  true,  too,  if  I  could  make  them ;  but  I  can't ; 
they  are  guesses. 

You  have  seen  Thomas  Robinson,  alias  Hie,  alias  Hie, 
alias  Iste,  tinted  hi  water-colors  by  me ;  now  see  him 
painted  in  oils  by  himself,  and  retouched  by  Mr.  Eden. 

A  thief  is  a  man,  and  a  man's  life  is  like  those  geo- 
graphical fragments  children  learn  "  the  contagious  coun- 
tries" by.  The  pieces  are  a  puzzle ;  but,  put  them  togeth- 
er carefully,  and,  lo !  they  are  a  map. 

The  thief  then  mapped  his  puzzle,  and  I  think  his 
work  will  stand. 

These  caged  autobiographers  have  a  great  advantage 
as  writers  over  other  autobiographers  that  sing  false 
notes  of  egotism  in  London  squares  and  American  villas 
built  sere  alieno. 

Carceravis  has  been  publicly  convicted.  Mavis  and 
Philomele  have  not  met  with  so  much  justice.  They 
could  eclipse  the  novelist  and  the  historian,  but  they 
don't  even  rival  them.  An  alternative  lies  before  them : 
to  chronicle  themselves  and  their  acts,  and  so  add  great 
instructive  pictures  of  man  to  the  immortal  part  of  liter- 
ature, or  to  idealize,  as  our  pedants  call  it,  to  slur,  falsi- 
fy, color  themselves  up  here,  and  tone  themselves  down 
there.  Unfortunately  for  letters,  they  invariably  choose 
the  liedeal ;  and  instead  of  coming  out  bright  as  stars, 
the  interesting,  curious,  instructive,  valuable  rogues,  hum- 
bugs, and  courtesans  they  are,  and  so  being  the  darlings 
of  posterity,  they  go  mincing  to  trunkerity,  tame,  nega- 
tive, insipid,  characterless  creatures,  not  good  enough  for 
an  example,  not  bad  enough  for  a  warning,  but  excellent 
lining  for  a  bandbox. 

No.    It  is  to  the  detected  part  of  the  community  we 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  213 

must  look  for  an  honest  autobiography.  Not  that  self- 
deception  ever  retires  wholly  from  a  human  heart,  but 
that  in  these  there  is  no  good  opinion  of  the  world  to 
back  their  self-deception.  It  is  not  so  with  many  an  un- 
convicted  rogue,  who  is  far  below  an  average  felon :  the 
banker,  who  steals  not  from  strangers,  but  friends — steals 
from  those  who  have  a  claim  to  his  gratitude  as  well  as 
his  honesty ;  the  rector,  who  preaches  Christ,  and  swin- 
dles the  young  curate  out  of  every  halfpenny  contrary 
to  law,  because  the  poor  boy  must  get  a  title  though  he 
buy  it  and  begin  life  with  debt ;  how  will  he  end  it  ? 
The  anonymous  assassin,  the  cowardly  caitiff  of  a  scrib- 
bler, who,  with  no  temptation  but  mere  envy,  stabs  the 
great  in  the  dark  and  truckles  to  them  face  to  face.  A 
felon  is  a  man,  and  often  a  resolute  one ;  but  what  is  this 
thing  that  stabs  and  runs  away  into  a  hole  ?  the  shopkeep- 
ing  assassin,  who  puts  red-lead  (a  deadly  poison)  into  red 
pepper,  and  sells  death  to  those  by  whom  he  lives. 

The  shopkeeping  assassin,  who  puts  copper,  a  deadly 
and  cumulative  poison,  into  pickles  and  preserves,  and 
poisons  those  by  \vhom  he  lives.  The  English  assassin, 
who  poisons  the  young  children  wholesale  in  their  sugar- 
plums, and  then  reads  with  virtuous  indignation  of  the 
Sepoys  who  bayoneted  them  in  their  rage  instead  of  kill- 
ing them  cannily. 

The  miller,  abandoned  of  God,  and  awaiting  here  on 
earth  his  eternal  damnation,  who,  king  of  all  these  Bor- 
gias,  thief  and  murderer  at  once,  poisons  young  and  old 
at  life's  fountain,  breaks  life's  very  staff,  mixes  plaster  of 
Paris  with  the  flour  that  is  the  food  of  all  men — the  only 
food,  alas !  of  more  than  half  the  world. 

These  and  a  score  more  respectables  are  the  hopeless 
cases.  A  cracksman  or  a  swell  mobsman  is  terribly  hard 
to  cure;  but  these  are  incurable.  The  world's  good 
opinion  fortifies  their  delusion.  They  open  their  eyes 
for  the  first  time  in  hell.  A  pickpocket  now  and  then 
opens  them  in  jail. 


214  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

We  owe  to jail  this  slippery  one  who  paints  him- 
self a  slipperyish  one,  and  does  not  falsify  as  well  as  filch. 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  this  is  the  man's  his- 
tory not  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  novel,  but  be- 
fore. His  foundation,  not  his  roof.  On  this  autobiog- 
rapher  the  benign  influences  of  religion,  the  solidifying 
effect  of  property,  and  the  guardianship  of  a  shrewd  but 
honest  wife,  have  since  been  bestowed  by  heaven. 

Add  then  this  autobiography  to  his  character  as  drawn 
by  me  in  the  novel,  and  you  possess  the  whole  portrait ; 
and  now  it  will  be  for  you  to  judge  whether  for  once  we 
have  taken  a  character  that  exists  on  a  large  scale  in  Na- 
ture, and  added  it  to  Fiction,  or,  here  too,  have  printed  a 
shadow,  and  called  it  a  man. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  DID  nothing  that  I  particularly  remember  until  I  was 
fifteen,  except  learn  my  lessons,  with  now  and  then  a 
fight.  I  lived  with  my  mother  in  Edinburgh.  One  day 
a  person  of  gentlemanly  appearance  met  a  band  of  us  as 
we  were  going  to  school,  and  inquired  for  me  by  name. 
He  took  me  aside  into  a  tavern,  and,  after  treating  me, 
revealed  himself  to  me  as  my  father.  He  also  gave  me 
a  crown,  and  promised  to  see  me  again ;  but  was  unfor- 
tunately prevented,  or  perhaps  forgot. 

My  education  being  now  considered  complete,  I  went 
to  receive  lessons  in  anatomy,  at  which  I  remained  for 
the  space  of  nine  months. 

I  now  formed  an  acquaintance  with  a  young  lady. 
(At  this  time  I  was  staying  with  my  godfather  upon  my 
mother's  decease.)  But  she  was  unfortunately  a  Roman- 
ist, and  on  this  account  my  godfather  ordered  me  to  leave 
off  her  acquaintance,  which  I  refusing,  he  ordered  me  out 
of  the  house.  I  complied  with  his  harsh  mandate,  but 
first  collecting  (A.)  all  the  money  I  could  find,  which 
amounted  to  about  £50,  and  with  this  I  went  to  Dun- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  215 

ferraline,  and  from  there  to  the  Rumbling  Brigg,  where 
I  lodged  with  a  couple  well  to  do.  I  paid  my  board 
while  my  money  lasted ;  but  being  now  empty,  and  my 
host  finding  I  was  a  scholar,  I  agreed  to  give  him  three 
lessons  a  day  upon  the  sly,  for  which  he  privately  con- 
tracted to  give  me  secretly  the  money  to  pay  his  wife 
my  board. 

This  lasted  three  months ;  but  one  evening  as  we  were 
at  our  studies,  and  having  neglected  to  lock  the  door, 
being  become  too  bold  by  past  impunity,  the  wife,  who 
had  discovered  our  retreat,  having  listened  a  moment  or 
two,  burst  suddenly  in  upon  us,  and  falling  (B.)  on  her 
knees,  exclaimed, 

"  Good  heavens,  am  I  married  to  a  man  who  does  not 
know  that  three  tunes  five  make  fifteen  ?"  and  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears  and  reproaches. 

This  was  the  line  of  the  table  he  was  unfortunately  re- 
peating to  me  at  the  time. 

His  wife's  conduct  raising  a  counter-excitement  in  my 
pupil,  and  finding  I  had  lighted  a  flame  which  would  not 
easily  be  extinguished,  I  thought  proper  to  retire  and  go 
back  to  Dunfermline.  Here  I  learned  my  first  trade  of 
the-  many  I  have  practiced. 

I  engaged  myself  to  a  master  weaver  and  petty  manu- 
facturer. Besides  learning  to  take  drafts  of  patterns, 
etc.,  I  used  to  cast  his  accounts.  But  one  day  he  sent 
me  to  the  bank  to  draw  some  money :  on  this  I  abscond- 
ed with  the  money,  and  went  to  Edinburgh. 

He  pursued  me  so  closely  that,  with  the  aid  of  the  po- 
lice, he  apprehended  me  before  I  had  time  to  spend  it. 
To  avoid  punishment,  I  gave  him  back  the  money  all  but 
seventeen  shillings,  and  he,  who  was  a  good-natured  man, 
wished  me  to  go  back  to  my  place ;  but,  having  borne  a 
good  name  in  the  place  until  then,  I  thought  shame  to  go 
back ;  so  I  went  to  Newcastle  after  borrowing  of  my 
(C.)  late  master  15s.  for  the  journey. 

At  Newcastle  I  went  into  a  chemist's  shop  for  some 


216  AUTOBIOGKAPHY    OP   A   THIEF. 

cough-lozenges.  Now  it  happened  that  a  woman  in  the 
shop  asked  for  some  medicine.  I  forget  just  now  what 
it  was,  but  the  shop-boy  took  down  the  wrong ;  he  took 
down  a  bottle  containing  chamomile,  I  remember  that ; 
so  I  told  the  boy  that  he  mistook  the  Latin  term.  This 
naturally  attracted  the  master's  attention,  and  he  looked 
up  and  saw  I  was  correct ;  so  then  he  asked  me  several 
questions,  and  finding  me  fit  for  his  purpose,  he  took  me 
into  his  service,  and  here  for  a  long  while  all  my  sorrows 
were  at  an  end,  for  I  took  a  delight  in  studying  my  mas- 
ter's interests,  and  laying  up  knowledge. 

He  favored  me  with  his  instructions,  and  I  enjoyed  at 
times  the  company  of  his  daughter,  which  was  to  me  a 
comfort  above  all,  and  with  whom  I  felt  myself  soon 
deep  in  love,  and  with  her  I  spent  many  a  happy  hour 
after  the  business  of  the  day  was  over,  walking  out  in 
the  evenings,  while  the  moon  with  her  bright  and  gentle 
rays  gave  to  all  things  a  delightful  appearance,  and  seem- 
ed to  lift  up  our  minds  to  something  above  the  groveling 
cares  of  Time — or  we  Iieard  the  plaintive  notes  of  the 
nightingale  breaking  the  silence  of  the  night,  and  calling 
us  to  join  him  in  his  songs  of  praise  to  the  God  of  Xature. 
But  sweeter  still  than  the  voice  of  the  nightingale  was 
the  voice  of  my  companion,  which  was  sweetest  of  all 
when  its  topic  (D.)  would  run  to  that  portion  which  forms 
the  golden  part  of  Cupid's  dart. 

In  these  innocent  joys  I  spent  four  years. 

But  one  unfortunate  evening,  having  a  drop  too  much 
at  the  time,  I  met  Miss  B.  as  usual,  and  opportunity  and 
temptation  unfortunately  occurring,  I  was  guilty  of  a 
felony  that  has  always  remained  on  my  conscience  more 
than  any  of  those  acts  I  have  been  guilty  of,  which  the 
law  describes  to  be  the  highest  crimes. 

From  that  night  our  walks  beneath  e  moon  by  the 
river  side  were  no  longer  innocent,  ai  we  were  no 
longer  happy. 

Oh  (E.)  cursed  night  and  place  that  robbed  a  virgin 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  217 

of  her  purity !  and  oh  cursed  Tyne,  why  did  not  thou 
overflow  thy  banks  and  drive  me  away  ?  If  now  thy 
fountain-spring  was  to  pour  out  streams  of  flaming  lava, 
it  would  not  purge  the  disgrace  out  of  thy  dark  banks 
— nay,  if  thy  banks  themselves  were  to  become  gold, 
they  would  not  ransom  the  character  lost  on  that  night, 
nor  restore  the  rest  and  quiet  that  now  fled  from  my 
pillow. 

Four  months  had  scarce  elapsed  before  I  learned  that 
consequences  of  a  serious  kind  were  to  be  expected. 

I  was  in  great  perplexity.  At  last,  taking  a  desperate 
course,  I  with  much  hesitation  asked  my  master  for  his 
daughter's  hand. 

My  master,  who,  though  a  good-natured,  was  a  hasty 
man,  turned  black  and  red  at  the  idea,  but  recovering 
himself  soon,  he  turned  it  off  as  a  jest.  I  saw  by  this 
that  he  would  never  consent,  and,  dreading  discovery,  I 
got  a  friend  of  mine  to  write  to  me  (F.)  from  Edinburgh 
that  my  sister  lay  at  the  point  of  death,  and  begged  to 
see  me. 

Showing  this  letter  to  my  master,  I  got  leave  of  ab- 
sence and  a  present  for  the  journey,  with  which  I  start- 
ed, promising  to  return  in  a  week,  but  with  no  such  in- 
tention. 

I  arrived  at  Edinburgh,  and  found  my  sister,  whom  I 
had  spoken  of  as  dying,  just  on  the  eve  of  marriage.  I 
was  at  the  wedding,  but  the  nuptial  feast  was  no  feast  to 
me,  for  it  only  recalled  the  thoughts  of  my  own  guilt. 

I  now  began  the  world  again. 

I  went  to  Stirling  and  obtained  a  situation  with  a 
baker ;  but  the  work  was  much  too  hard  for  me,  so  I 
left  him  in  two  days,  and  took  (A.)  with  me  three  pound 
ten  shillings ;  was  apprehended  in  Glasgow,  and  got  six- 
ty days. 

On  receiving  my  liberty  I  enlisted  in  her  majesty's 
service,  and  was  marched  on  board  the  "  Pique"  frigate 
bound  for  the  West  Indies. 

K 


218  AUTOBIOGBAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

Here  I  remained  until  we  got  to  Plymouth,  where  I 
made  my  escape,  but  was  retaken  in  the  town,  and 
brought  back  to  the  ship  and  put  in  irons  on  the  spar- 
deck  under  cover  of  a  tarpaulin :  this  was  my  prison  till 
we  reached  St.  Vincent.  We  anchored  here  for  two 
days,  and  in  the  confusion  of  getting  under-weigh  again 
I  watched  my  opportunity,  and  having  broken  my  pad- 
lock the  day  before,  I  stole  into  the  captain's  cabin,  he 
being  on  deck,  and  took  away  a  suit  of  his  clothes,  and 
dropped  into  the  water;  and  the  weather  being  calm, 
and  I  being  an  excellent  swimmer,  I  swam  alongside  a 
brigantine  that  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  and  hailing  her 
from  the  surface  of  the  water,  sang  out, "  Halloo !  are  you 
short  of  hands  ?" 

"  We  are,"  was  the  reply ;  "  where  do  you  hail  from  ?" 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?"  said  I.  So  they  haul- 
ed me  on  board. 

The  master,  finding  I  had  been  educated,  sent  me  on 
shore  to  his  brother  who  kept  a  store ;  and  so  now  I  was 
his  shopman. 

I  lived  with  my  new  master :  we  used  to  come  to  the 
shop  in  the  morning,  and  go  home  at  night.  We  lived 
a  mile  and  a  half  out  of  the  town  in  a  pretty  Gothic 
house,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  delightful  garden 
bordered  by  sugar-canes.  In  front  of  the  house  was  an 
avenue  of  orange  and  lemon  trees  mixed ;  their  branches 
bent  with  the  exuberance  of  the  fruit ;  and  the  ground 
glittered  with  great  shaddocks  and  limes,  that  lay  like 
lumps  of  gold,  unheeded  and  rotting  for  abundance.  The 
air,  too,  was  filled  with  the  scent  of  thousands  of  rich 
flowers  that  were  scattered  about,  some  by  Nature,  some 
by  the  hand  of  man ;  in  short,  it  was  an  earthly  paradise, 
in  which  I  might  have  ended  my  days  if  the  demon  of 
change  had  not  filled  my  mind  with  the  desire  to  behold 
once  more  my  native  country.  Stupid  fool ! 

I  set  sail,  and  after  a  stormy  passage  reached  the  port 
of  London. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  219 

I  lodged  in  the  Commercial  Road  till  my  money  was 
nearly  gone,  and  then  I  became  disconsolate. 

Wandering  one  day  in  the  Ratcliffe  Highway,  it  was 
my  luck  to  fall  in  with  an  old  acquaintance,  whom  I  had 
known  through  being-in  trouble  together.  He  intro- 
duced me  to  a  lodging-house-keeper  in  the  neighborhood, 
who,  after  a  few  words  with  my  companion,  told  me  "  it 
was  all  right ;  we  should  find  means  of  settling." 

I  went  to  bed,  and  when  I  wanted  to  get  up  my  clothes 
were  stolen,  with  the  few  shillings  I  had  left.  Remon- 
strating with  the  landlord,  he  said,  "  Oh,  it  is  a  mistake," 
and  disappearing  for  a  few  minutes,  during  which  I  heard 
high  words  and  a  bit  of  a  tussle,  he  returned  with  my 
clothes  and  money. 

The  next  day,  seeing  me  very  dull,  and  concluding  by 
that  I  was  ripe  for  business,  he  inquired  the  cause  of  my 
uneasiness. 

I  told  him  my  last  shilling  was  melting. 

He  laughed  at  this  cause  of  trouble. 

"  You  don't  know,"  said  he,  "  you  are  in  the  Mint." 

"In  the  Mint?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  was  his  reply ;  "  in  the  Mint,  my  boy ;"  and 
with  that  he  took  up  a  chisel  and  went  to  the  chimney, 
and  carefully  removed  a  loose  brick,  and  took  out  of  the 
gap  a  tin  box.  He  opened  the  box,  and  coins  of  every 
sort  in  profusion  flashed  upon  my  bewildered  eyes ;  and 
not  only  corns,  but  dies  and  metal  of  all  sorts  for  making 
them. 

"  Now,"  said  Crcesus,  "  having  gone  so  far,  you  must 
take  the  oath  at  once." 

Four  men  and  four  females  were  then  summoned,  and, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  them,  I  took  a  solemn  oath  to 
this  effect : 

"I  hereby  swear  never  to  tell  any  one  how  to 
make  '  shoffle,'  nor  where  I  learned  it,  nor  yet  to  use 
any  kind  of  language  that  may  lead  to  the  same, 
upon  pain  of  death." 


220  AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A   THIEF. 

Here  followed  imprecations  upon  my  eyes  and  limbs,  if 
broken,  such  as  are  used  among  freemasons,  etc.,  but  not 
being  fit  for  your  reverence's  ears,  I  suppress  that  part. 

The  next  process  was  to  go  and  change  a  base  sov- 
ereign, which  I  did  accordingly,  returning  with  nineteen 
and  sixpence,  and  of  wliich  sixpence  went  for  the  gin. 

Behold  me  now  a  shoffle-pitcher.  But  it  was  never 
my  way  to  remain  at  the  bottom  of  any  business  that  I 
found  worth  studying.  I  therefore,  in  the  course  of  six 
months,  learned  to  coin  first  a  shilling,  then  a  sovereign, 
then  the  most  difficult  of  all,  a  crown ;  and  last  of  ah1,  to 
make  the  moulds  for  each  of  these  corns ;  and  as  soon  as 
I  found  I  could  make  a  mould  for  a  crown,  I  dissolved 
partnership,  and  went  to  Gravesend  on  my  own  bottom. 

Your  reverence  will  blame  me  less  for  this  revolt  if  I 
tell  you  the  terms  on  which  we  worked  with  him  whom 
I  have  called  Croesus,  and  his  name  did  begin  with  a  C. 

He  had  the  half  of  every  coin  we  uttered ;  he  had  the 
cost  of  the  metal  besides,  and  the  half  of  every  article 
purchased  in  the  process  of  uttering. 

Now  this  was  not  fair ;  at  least  I  think  not,  because 
he  did  not  share  the  risk. 

I  pitched  on  my  own  account  about  a  month;  then 
finding  the  trade  stale,  and  having  once  or  twice  narrow- 
ly missed  being  apprehended,  I  returned  to  London  and 
betook  myself  to  the  diligent  study  of  house-breaking.  I 
learned  from  a  master  how  to  make  false  keys ;  and  hav- 
ing money  by  me,  and  courting  the  company  of  the  best 
cracksmen,  and  listening  to  all  they  said  with  respect  and 
attention,  I  attracted  notice,  and  was  made  a  member  of 
the  body,  and  soon  after  permitted  to  take  part  in  a  job. 
It  was  a  doctor's  shop  in  the  Commercial  Road,  and  my 
share  came  to  £50.  And  this  was  only  the  first  of  many 
transactions  of  the  kind. 

And  as  it  becomes  every  one  that  is  in  a  business  to 
master  it  if  possible,  I  will  tell  your  reverence  how  I  at- 
tended to  mine,  trusting  you  will  not  make  it  generally 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  221 

public,  as  it  is  not  considered  honorable  among  us  to  re- 
veal the  secrets  of  business,  but  only  on  account  of  your 
goodness  I  am  willing  to  put  you  on  your  guard,  and 
also  your  own  friends — that  is  to  say,  such  of  them  as 
have  got  any  thing  to  lose ;  but  hope  it  will  go  no  far- 
ther than  the  jail. 

Now,  as  the  chief  work  of  practitioners  in  our  line  is 
to  find  out  where  the  money  or  valuables  are  kept,  this 
was  my  plan : 

If  it  was  a  shop,  I  should  go  in  and  buy  something, 
give  the  shopman  a  sovereign  and  notice  where  he  put 
it,  and  from  whence  he  took  the  change,  and  at  the  same 
time  how  the  door  was  fastened,  whether  with  a  lock  or 
bar,  or  while  my  pal  (for  we  always  went  in  pairs)  was  en- 
gaging the  shopman,  I  would  take  the  dimensions  of  the 
same. 

Or,  if  it  was  a  dwelling-house,  I  would  go  and  present 
the  mistress  with  a  card  stating  I  was  a  china  or  glass 
mender,  a  French  polisher,  a  teacher  of  music  or  dancing, 
and  try  every  move  to  get  admittance  into  the  parlor, 
and  then  you  may  be  sure  my  eyes  were  not  shut. 

Or  else  I  would  go  and  offer  the  servant  some  article 
for  sale  as  a  hawker,  and  would  chaff  and  flatter  her,  and 
so  perhaps  get  a  notion  where  the  plate  was  kept,  and 
the  next  week  come  and  fetch  it  away. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  I  had  collected  some- 
where about  one  hundred  pounds  in  money  and  valu- 
ables, and  finding  the  police  had  scent  of  me,  I  left  Lon- 
don and  went  down  by  the  Leith  smack  to  Edinburgh. 

Here  I  visited  my  friends,  and  passed  myself  off  in 
their  society  for  a  thriving  tradesman. 

I  also  sent  some  money  to  Miss  B. — not  that  money 
could  repay  the  injury  I  had  done  her,  but  still  it  would 
make  her  friends  more  civil  to  see  that  she  wanted  for 
nothing. 

If  my  real  character  had  not  got  wind  in  Newcastle,  I 
think  at  this  time  they  would  have  let  me  marry  her,  and 


222  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OP   A   THIEF. 

I  think,  bad  as  I  am,  I  should  have  mended  for  her  sake, 
for  she  was  the  only  woman  I  ever  really  loved.  (G.) 

It  is  an  old  saying,  that  "  the  money  which  comes  by 
the  wind  goes  by  the  water." 

I  have  made  thousands,  but  never  could  keep  so  much 
as  a  £5  note. 

In  about  a  month  nearly  all  my  money  was  melted, 
and  I  set  out  on  a  cruise  again. 

Falling  into  some  of  my  old  haunts  in  Yorkshire  I  met 
with  a  friend  who  manufactured  base  coin,  and,  having 
passed  a  quantity  of  this  and  being  now  at  my  ease,  I  de- 
termined to  study  a  new  profession. 

I  therefore  secluded  myself  from  ah1  my  idle  compan- 
ions, took  a  quiet  lodging,  bought  several  medical  books, 
and  studied  the  human  frame  and  the  disorders  to  which 
it  is  subject. 

I  studied  night  and  day  with  the  same  diligence  I  had 
given  to  coining,  house-breaking,  and  my  other  profes- 
sions. 

In  about  a  month  I  considered  myself  fit  to  start, 
which  I  accordingly  did  with  as  much  pomp  as  I  could 
command,  having  seen  how  far  that  goes  toward  success 
in  the  learned  professions. 

I  engaged  a  servant  with  a  handsome  livery  to  deliver 
my  bills  at  the  most  respectable  doors,  and  attend  upon 
me  when  I  addressed  the  public. 

I  had  a  thousand  bills  printed  representing  myself  as 
Dr.  Scott  from  Edinburgh,  and  I  furnished  myself  with 
testimonials  from  respectable  parties — I  mean  that  would 
have  been,  but  who,  in  point  of  fact,  had  no  existence — 
and  printed  them  at  the  foot  of  my  bills. 

My  plan  was,  on  entering  a  town,  first  to  go  for  the 
more  respectable  customers  by  putting  up  at  a  good  inn, 
making  friends  with  the  landlord,  and  sending  my  foot- 
man round  with  my  bills ;  but  before  leaving  I  used  to 
appear  in  my  true  colors  as  an  itinerant  quack. 

In  this  capacity  I  used  to  harangue  the  people  and  sell 
my  drugs. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY   OF   A  THIEF.  223 

In  ray  public  discourses  I  always  ran  down  the  regular 
practitioner,  as  we  are  all  obliged  to  do,  and  the  plan  I 
used  to  follow  was  cool  irony :  I  found  this  went  farther 
than  pretending  to  get  into  a  heat. 

Unlike  most  quacks,  I  did  not  apply  one  or  two  reme- 
dies to  every  disorder,  and  I  met  with  wonderful  success, 
especially  with  the  women ;  partly,  I  think,  because  with 
them  imagination  goes  far,  and  my  patter  inspired  them 
with  more  confidence  than  the  regular  doctors  could,  not 
having  the  gift  of  the  gab. 

"While  traveling  as  a  doctor  I  never  would  accept 
money  from  any  of  my  patients  until  the  disease,  what- 
ever it  might  be,  took  a  turn  for  the  better ;  and  even 
then  my  charges  were  always  low ;  but,  to  make  up,  I 
did  pass  a  deal  of  base  coin  wherever  I  traveled. 

The  following  were  some  of  my  most  remarkable  cures : 

The  landlady  of  a  public  house  at  York  of  a  dysentery. 

At  Wakefield  I  reduced  an  imposthume  which  the 
proprietor  was  going  to  have  cut  if  it  had  not  been  for 
me. 

At  Hull  I  actually  cured  a  respectable  woman  of  a 
cataract,  and  was  praised  in  the  public  journals. 

These  and  a  hundred  ordinary  cures  are  the  benefits  I 
rendered  the  public  in  return  for  the  many  wrongs  I  have 
done  it. 

I  had  been  practicing  pharmacy  some  three  months 
when  one  day  I  received  a  letter  from  Newcastle. 

It  was  from  Miss  B.'s  uncle,  telling  me  I  might  visit 
her  now. 

The  letter  was  very  short,  and  there  was  something 
about  it  I  did  not  understand ;  so  that,  instead  of  filling 
me  with  delight,  as  such  a  letter  would  a  while  ago,  I  set 
out  for  Newcastle  flush  of  cash  but  full  of  perplexity. 

I  reached  Newcastle,  and,  lest  her  friends  should  have 
changed  their  mind  again,  and  receive  me  with  an  affront, 
I  went  to  an  ale-house  convenient  to  her  residence,  and 
sent  for  her  younger  brother,  who  had  never  been  so 
much  against  me  as  the  others. 


224  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

He  came  directly,  and  I  began  to  put  a  dozen  questions 
to  him ;  but  he  maintained  silence ;  he  hung  his  head  and 
said,  "Don't  ask  me — you  will  soon  know — and  since 
you  are  here,  come  without  loss  of  time ;"  and  he  led  the 
way  in  gloomy  silence. 

I  was  taken  into  the  house,  and  after  some  little  delay 
was  allowed  to  go  up  into  her  room :  I  shall  never  for- 
get it. 

Her  cheeks,  that  used  to  be  like  two  roses,  were  now 
pale  and  ghastly,  and  her  beaming  eyes  were  dull  and 
sunk  in  her  head ;  only  her  voice  and  her  smile  were  as 
sweet  as  ever. 

Her  first  word  was, "I  have  only  waited  for  this." 
Then  she  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  thanked  me  in  a 
sweet  and  composed  tone  of  voice  "  for  coming  to  per- 
form the  last  part  of  a  husband's  duty;"  but  here  her 
feelings  overcame  her,  and  the  poor  thing  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears,  and  I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  sobbed  and 
cried  with  her ;  and  her  relations  somehow  felt  that  they 
were  not  to  come  between  us  any  more  now,  and  they 
looked  at  one  another  and  left  the  room  without  any 
noise,  and  we  were  alone  a  little  while. 

And  then  I  kneeled  down  again  and  prayed  her  to  for- 
give the  injury  I  had  done  her  person  and  character; 
and  then  she  answered  like  a  woman  that  she  was  to 
blame  and  not  I ;  and  this  answer  from  her,  and  she  dy- 
ing, went  through  me  like  a  knife,  and  I  prayed  to  die 
for  her,  or  at  least  die  with  her;  and  bursting  into  un- 
manly and  useless  grief,  and  groveling  in  anguish  and  re- 
morse upon  the  floor,  some  of  them  came  in  and  interfered 
for  her  sake,  and  very  properly  led  me  away — and  not  in 
an  unkind  manner,  for  which  may  God  bless  them  any 
way. 

I  hope  your  reverence  may  never  feel  as  I  did :  I  had 
no  acute  sense  of  grief  or  pain — bodily  or  mental  pain 
would  have  been  a  relief— I  felt  dead — my  body  seemed 
dead,  my  heart  seemed  dead. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  225 

I  crawled  to  my  inn,  and  crawled  into  bed,  and  lay 
sleepless  but  motionless  till  daybreak.  Then  I  rose  and 
went  down  to  the  river-side,  and  walked  up  and  down, 
and  at  about  nine,  when  I  thought  the  family  would  be 
up,  I  went  to  the  house. 

The  moment  I  came  in  sight  of  the  house  I  saw  all  the 
shutters  were  up.  But  it  gave  me  scarcely  any  shock, 
for  I  was  stone,  and  I  seemed  to  know  before  this  that 
all  was  over. 

They  wished  me  to  see  her,  but  I  was  unable  then ; 
but  the  day  before  she  was  buried  I  took  a  last  look  at 
her :  it  did  not  seem  to  be  her,  but  only  some  shell  or 
frame  she  had  once  inhabited — now  a  ruinous  heap  of 
corruption ;  and  that  is  an  awful  word. 

Is  it  a  castle  ?  there  was  a  time  when  the  heart  of  the 
bold  soldier  burned  with  ardor  to  defend  it. 

Is  it  a  senate?  there  was  a  time  when  the  loud  ap- 
plause of  eloquence  thundered  from  its  roof—- 
Or is  it  a  temple  ?  there  was  a  time  when  the  white- 
stoled  priest  called  down  the  fire  from  heaven  to  bless 
the  sacrifice. 

But  here  is  a  temple,  one  not  made  with  hands,  the 
architecture  of  which  is  too  sublime  for  our  minds  to  con- 
ceive, a  temple  that  was  erected  to  be  the  seat  of  its 
Maker,  one  in  which  dwelt  not  only  the  image,  but  the 
spirit  of  its  Creator :  let  me  ask,  then,  why  was  it  thus 
left  desolate,  and  whither  has  its  tenant  gone  ? 

Tell  me,  ye  seas,  whose  waves  roll  and  ripple  at  our 
feet  or  thunder  on  our  vessels,  tell  me,  have  ye  seen  the 
airy  stranger  float  along  your  surface,  and  whither  has  it 
winged  its  way  ? 

Tell  me,  ye  winds,  harpers  of  the  mountain  forest ;  me- 
thinks  ye  could,  for  there  are  times  ye  whisper  gently, 
and  seem  as  if  ye  were  holding  communion  with  depart- 
ed spirits ;  tell  me,  have  ye  seen  this  airy  stranger,  and 
whither  has  she  gone  ?  Tell  me,  ye  dazzling  worlds,  that 
perform  your  regular  but  mystic  dance  upon  the  airy 

K2 


226  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

surface ;  tell  me,  have  ye  seen  this  airy  stranger  wing 
her  way  through  your  aerial  canopy,  and  whither  has  it 
gone? 

Such  thoughts  as  these  followed  the  first  anguish  at 
losing  her,  and  to  all  these  inquiries  one  answer  seemed 
to  come  back  to  me  from  ah1  Creation — 

"The  body  returns  to  the  dust,  and  the  soul  to  God 
who  gave  it." 

And  when  I  compared  this  answer  with  my  own  con- 
duct, I  felt  I  was  far  behind ;  arid  over  my  sweetheart's 
grave  I  vowed  to  amend  my  life,  that  one  day  I  might 
hope  to  meet  her  again.  The  first  three  days  after  the 
funeral  I  tried  in  every  direction  for  an  honest  situation. 

The  fourth  I  fell  from  all  my  good  resolutions. 

In  my  despair  I  had  recourse  to  drink,  and  was  un- 
done. I  was  drunk  for  a  whole  week,  and  by  the  end  of 
that  time  was  penniless. 

Let  mankind  take  warning  by  my  fate,  and  not  fancy 
the  habit  of  drink  can  be  formed  with  safety.  Up  to 
this  time,  though  like  all  the  world  I  had  wasted  a  large 
portion  of  my  gains  upon  drink,  yet  I  had  never  gone  at 
it  like  a  madman.  But  what  of  that  ?  the  habit  was 
formed;  it  was  there  waiting  like  a  lion  for  its  prey, 
waiting  for  a  great  opportunity,  your  reverence.  One 
came :  I  was  in  despair ;  my  appetite  was  gone,  and  drink 
comforted  my  stomach ;  my  heart  was  dead,  and  drink 
made  it  beat.  I  had  recourse  to  this  solace,  and  became 
a  beast.  As  I  said  before,  for  a  whole  week  I  was  never 
not  to  say  sober. 

No  man  and  no  woman  is  safe  that  has  once  formed 
the  fatal  habit  of  looking  to  drink  for  solace,  or  cheerful- 
ness, or  comfort.  (H.)  While  the  world  goes  well  they 
will  likely  be  temperate ;  but  the  habit  is  built,  the  rail- 
road to  destruction  is  cut  ready  for  use,  the  trains  are 
laid  down,  and  the  station-houses  erected,  and  the  train 
is  on  the  line  waiting  only  for  the  locomotive.  Well,  the 
fjrst  great  trouble  or  hopeless  grief  is  the  locomotive :  it 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  227 

comes  to  us,  it  grapples  us,  and  away  we  go  in  a  moment 
down  the  line  we  have  been  years  constructing  like  a 
flash  of  lightning  to  the  devil. 

I  woke  one  afternoon  sober  and  penniless. 

From  drunkenness  to  thieving  is  not  a  very  wide  leap 
even  to  those  who  are  beginning  an  evil  career;  to  me 
it  was  no  more  than  crossing  a  gutter.  I  pawned  my 
watch,  and  got  on  board  the  steamer  for  London,  and 
back  to  my  old  haunts. 

I  soon  fell  hi  with  an  old  pal,  and  borrowed  £10  of 
him,  and  began  first  to  pass  and  after  that  to  com 
"  shofHe ;"  and,  when  that  was  not  quick  work  enough, 
took  to  house-breaking  and  shop-lifting  again. 

But  in  the  early  part  of  this  chapter  of  my  career, 
having  very  little  cash,  for  part  of  the  £10  went  for 
clothes,  I  was  obliged  to  be  moderate  in  my  expenses, 
and  I  accordingly  spent  a  week  in  a  lodging-house  kept 
by  an  old  friend  of  mine,  which  I  will  try  to  describe. 

The  house  itself  is  divided  into  two  separate  compart- 
ments besides  the  bed-chambers. 

The  first  or  state  apartment  is  for  professional  thieves. 

The  back  room  is  for  those  street  trades  that  lie  be- 
tween thieving  and  commerce. 

My  friend  ushered  me  in  here,  and  there  were  more 
than  a  score  of  them  all  gazing  with  their  mouths  open 
at  the  new-comer — all  engaged  at  various  labors,  and 
talking  a  dozen  different  branches  of  cant. 

Some  were  making  mats — some  arranging  articles  for 
sale  in  their  baskets  or  on  their  trays — some  making 
matches — the  "askers"  selling  their  begged  bread  at 
three  halfpence  the  pound — another  tuning  up  his  fiddle 
— the  whole  lot  comparing  notes  to  the  detriment  of  the 
public — the  beggar  telling  the  match-maker  at  what 
house  they  gave  him  meat  or  money — the  hawker  and 
mat-maker  exchanging  the  same  sort  of  profitable  in- 
formation, by  which  many  an  easy-going  gentleman,  that 
thinks  himself  obscure,  gets  his  habits  published  among 


228  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

the  dregs  of  society,  and  perhaps  a  nickname  tacked  on 
to  him,  and  more  people  knowing  him  by  it  than  know 
him  by  his  own. 

Then  there  was  the  "buzzer"  practicing  his  necro- 
mancy. Presently  in  came  a  "  sneaker"  with  half  a  fir- 
kin of  butter  for  sale  at  4c?.  per  pound,  on  which  the 
women  fell  to  abusing  then*  men  because  they  had  not 
enough  money  to  buy  ten  or  twelve  pounds ;  children 
crying,  and  all  in  a  mighty  way  because  the  fountain  is 
not  boiling. 

In  the  corner  was  a  handsome  young  female,  evidently 
a  stranger,  biting  the  end  of  her  apron-string,  her  mind 
not  being  able  to  comprehend  the  fullness  of  the  scene. 

"  Here  is  a  sweetheart  for  you  and  all,"  said  my  friend. 
"  She  is  waiting  for  her  husband  to  come  back,"  added 
he,  winking  to  me. 

Her  husband,  as  she  called  the  man  who  had  enticed 
her  from  her  friends,  never  came  back,  and,  indeed,  no- 
body except  herself  ever  thought  he  would. 

Then,  to  amuse  her  mind,  I  requested  her  to  go  an 
errand  for  me.  She  agreed.  I  gave  her  a  base  sovereign, 
and  sent  her  to  buy  groceries,  which  when  she  had  done 
I  invited  her  to  take  tea  with  me,  and  over  our  tea  she 
told  me  her  story  without  reserve. 

Finding  she  was  a  decent  girl,  and  apparently  had 
never  made  but  this  one  slip,  I  determined  to  enter  into 
partnership  with  her,  if  she  would  consent. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  I  felt  the  want  of  a  female 
companion  now  in  a  way  I  never  had  until  Miss  B.'s 
death.  I  believe  my  nerves  were  shaken  by  that  sad 
event,  and  I  began  to  want  to  see  a  woman's  face  oppo- 
site me,  and  to  hear  the  soft  notes  of  a  female  voice. 

Three  days  after  our  first  meeting  we  were  married 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  house — z.  e.,  a  traveler 
dressed  in  a  white  sheet,  with  holes  cut  for  his  arms,  read 
a  few  sentences  of  the  marriage  service  to  us ;  he  then 
drew  a  line  on  the  floor  with  a  piece  of  chalk,  and  made 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  229 

us  leap  over  it  in  succession  while  he  recited  in  a  solemn 
voice  the  following : 

"Leap,  rogue  ;  and  follow,  jade — 
Man  and  wife  for  evermore," 

which  concluded  the  ceremony,  and  we  were  man  and 
wife  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  lodgers,  unless  we  should  agree 
to  be  untied,  which  could  only  be  done  by  the  same 
party  or  his  successor,  and  with  other  ceremonies,  and, 
above  all — fees !  We  soon  left  this  house  and  set  up  a 
lodging  of  our  own.  She  made  me  very  comfortable 
when  I  was  at  home,  and  I  let  her  want  for  nothing. 

I  lived  nearly  three  years  in  London  this  bout,  and, 
owing  to  the  company  I  kept,  I  got  the  cockney  phrase 
and  twang  so  that  I  fear  I  will  never  entirely  get  rid  of 
them.  Indeed,  I  am  commonly  taken  for  a  cockney, 
which  is  a  sad  disgrace  to  a  man  born  north  of  the 
Tweed.  (I.) 

At  the  end  of  this  time  my  wife's  friends  sent  to  beg 
her  to  come  home,  which  she  asked  my  leave  to  do.  I 
consented,  and  we  were  untied,  and  parted  with  mutual 
expressions  of  esteem.  Finding  London  rather  dull  after 
she  was  gone,  I  agreed  to  join  a  gang  of  us  that  were 
about  to  make  a  provincial  trip. 

We  went  to  Mortimer,  a  village  in  Berkshire.  The 
scene  of  our  business  was  Reading  and  its  neighborhood. 
We  committed  some  very  daring  robberies  in  Reading 
and  Caversham,  that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten. 

We  broke  into  one  house  in  Reading  in  open  day :  it 

was  Sunday,  and  the  whole  family  were  gone  to  church. 

We  rifled  the  house,  and  left  a  paper  on  the  table,  on 

which  I  am  ashamed  (J.)  to  tell  your  reverence  I  wrote 

"  Watch  as  well  as  pray ! !" 

But  this  could  not  last  forever.    I  had  been  out  fishing 
all  day  (a  sport  I  am  very  fond  of),  when,  returning  to- 
ward dusk,  I  saw  a  strange  face  at  one  of  the  windows 
.  of  our  house. 

Not  quite  understanding  this,  I  turned  back  and  went 


230  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

a  mile  round,  to  where  I  could  see  the  back  of  the 
house  without  being  recognized,  and  my  caution  was  not 
wasted. 

I  soon  found  that  the  house  was  hi  the  possession  of 
the  police,  and  that  ah1  or  most  of  my  comrades  were 
nabbed. 

Having  some  money  about  me,  I  decamped,  and,  re- 
turning to  town,  found  two  of  my  companions  about  to 
start  for  California,  dazzled  by  the  accounts  we  heard  of 
the  fortunes  made  there  by  digging  and  levying  the  road- 
side tax  on  those  who  dug. 

I  joined  them,  and  after  a  voyage  of  six  months  we 
landed  at  San  Francisco. 

Your  reverence  has  often  heard  me  talk  of  my  adven- 
tures in  that  country,  and  you  have  often  forbade  me  to 
be  always  thinking  and  talking  about  gold ;  I  will,  there- 
fore, abstain  from  relating  my  adventures  in  the  New 
World — in  fact,  they  would  of  themselves  fill  a  volume. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  I  had  at  one  time  twelve  hundred  pounds 
in  money  and  gold-dust,  but  I  wasted  the  greater  part, 
and  by  a  just  retribution  was  robbed  of  the  rest. 

I  returned  to  London  with  £10  and  a  nugget,  which  I 
sold  for  £25  in  Threadneedle  Street. 

And  now,  not  liking  the  smoke  of  London,  after  one 
or  two  successful  jobs,  which  swelled  my  stock  to  a  mat- 
ter of  £60, 1  bought  some  new  clothes  and  went  down  to 
Reading,  but,  not  thinking  it  prudent  to  remain  there 
long,  crossed  the  river  and  went  into  Oxfordshire. 

I  heard  of  a  farmer  who  sometimes  took  a  lodger,  and 
as  I  was  well  dressed,  and  he  too  honest  to  be  suspicious, 
we  soon  came  to  terms. 

The  farmer  was  George  Fielding,  of  whom  your  rev- 
erence has  often  heard  me  speak. 

I  never  met  with  such  a  character  as  his :  he  did  not 
seem  to  know  any  thing  about  lying,  far  less  taking  any 
thing  without  paying  for  it. 

When  I  first  lodged  with  him  I  had,  of  course,  an  eye 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   THIEF.  231 

to  business,  but  I  got  so  fond  of  him  (K.)  I  could  not 
take  any  thing  of  his ;  and  he  was  attached  to  me  too, 
until  one  unlucky  day  he  found  out  my  real  character, 
and  then  he  insulted  me,  and  now  he  despises  me. 

I  spent  four  innocent  months  here,  and  I  often  thought, 
if  I  could  have  such  an  honest  man  as  George  Fielding 
always  close  to  my  side  all  day,  I  could  keep  from  taking 
any  thing  all  the  rest  of  my  life ;  but,  unluckily,  my  mon- 
ey gradually  melted,  in  which  state  I  went  to  a  fair  in 
the  neighborhood.  I  saw  a  rich  farmer  take  out  some 
notes  and  make  a  payment,  and  put  the  rest  back  into  a 
side-pocket :  almost  before  it  reached  the  bottom  of  his 
pocket  it  was  mine. 

The  country  banks  close  at  three  o'clock,  and  it  was 
near  four  at  the  time ;  I  got  rid,  therefore,  of  the  Bank 
of  England  notes,  meaning  to  change  the  others  when  a 
good  opportunity  should  occur. 

But  meantime  I  suppose  measures  were  taken  against 
me ;  any  way,  the  police  came  down  from  London,  and 
I  was  seized,  identified,  and  put  to  an  open  shame. 

This,  the  last  passage  of  my  life,  went  nearer  to  drive 
me  to  despair  than  all  the  rest ;  for  I  had  begun  to  taste 
the  sweets  of  innocence,  and  to  love  honesty  under  the 
name  of  George  Fielding. 

I  was  convicted  at  the  Assizes,  and  being  recognized 
as  having  been  seven  times  in  prison,  and  notoriously 
guilty  of  many  felonies  besides,  they  sentenced  me  to 
twelve  months'  imprisonment,  and  transportation  for  ten 
years. 

I  have  been  six  months  in  this  jail,  where  I  have  met 
with  most  cruel  treatment,  being  forced  to  labor  beyond 
my  strength  even  when  weakened  by  sickness,  and  ptm- 
ished  for  mere  inability;  and,  besides  the  harm  this 
wrought  my  body,  it  hardened  my  heart,  and  made  me 
look  on  mankind  as  my  enemy. 

But,  after  that,  your  reverence  was  sent  here  by 
Heaven  to  our  relief. 


232  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   THIEF. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  find  in  you  a  gentleman 
whose  heart  was  large  enough  to  feel  for  all  who  suffer, 
and  whose  understanding  could  comprehend  that  a  con- 
vict is  a  man,  and  this  has  been  a  godsend  to  me,  and 
may  the  Almighty  bless  you  for  all  your  goodness,  and 
above  all  for  your  constant  battle  to  save  us  poor  fel- 
lows' souls,  and,  when  you  stand  one  day  at  the  great  tri- 
bunal, may  many  a  black  sheep  stand  round  you  that  the 
world  perhaps  took  for  goats  to  the  last ! 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  look  back  upon  my  past  life,  of  which 
what  I  have  written  here  is  no  more  than  a  single  page 
out  of  volumes  and  volumes — when  I  think  of  the  many 
opportunities  I  have  had  of  doing  good  to  myself  and 
others,  and  then  think  of  how  it  ah1  ends — a  convicted 
felon,  doomed  to  pass  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  shame 
and  exile,  debarred  from  situations  where  I  could  exe- 
cute my  talents,  and  felon  printed  upon  me,  I  am  whiles 
tempted  to  put  the  gas-pipe  that  is  in  my  cell  into  my 
mouth,  and  suck  the  poisonous  vapor  into  my  lungs,  and 
thus  with  crime  to  end  a  life  of  crime.  But  then  your 
face  rises  up  before  me,  and  expostulates  with  a  look, 
and  bids  me  be  patient  and  hope ;  also  your  words,  that 
I  ought  to  be  thankful  to  God  for  his  mercy  in  giving 
me  time  to  reflect  on  the  enormity  of  my  crimes,  and  not 
cutting  me  down  as  a  cumberer  of  the  ground. 

But,  above  all,  I  feel  it  would  be  ungrateful  to  you  and 
grieve  you  if  I  was  to  make  away  with  myself  under 
your  eye,  or  even  to  despair. 

I  will  try  my  best  to  be  somebody  yet,  if  only  for  your 
reverence's  sake ;  for  it  is  a  shame  a  gentleman  like  you 
should  give  his  days  and  his  nights,  and  all  the  blood  in 
his  heart,  to  saving  us  poor  fellows  from  perdition,  and 
be  continuaUy  disappointed. 

So  once  more  thanking  your  reverence  for  all  kindness, 
and  for  setting  me  to  write  this,  which  has  amused  and 
whiled  away  some  weary  hours,  and  begging  you  to  ex- 
cuse all  faults  and  blunders,  for  in  my  busy  life  writing 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   THIEF.  233 

is  an  art  I  have  had  no  time  to  give  my  mind  to,  I  close 
this  record  of  the  disgraceful  past,  and  here  in  my  cell, 
envying  the  cripple  round  whom  the  free-  air  plays  and 
on  whom  the  sun  shines,  I  await  the  gloomy  future. 

Thomas    * 

— alias  Wilkinson, 
— alias  Lyon, 
— alias  M'Pherson, 
— alias  Scott, 
— alias  Howard, 
— alias  Robinson. 


A.  "  Collected"  and  "  took  with  me."    No  such  thing. 
"Stole"  is  the  word  that  represents  the  transactions. 
Always  be  precise.    Never  tamper  with  words :  call  a 
spade  a  spade,  and  a  picklock  a  picklock ;  that  is  the  first 
step  toward  digging  instead  of  thieving. 

B.  She  did  not  fall  on  her  knees.    You  put  that  in  for 
stage  effect,  and  it  produces  none,  the  gesture  is  so  mani- 
festly inappropriate. 

C.  And  he  lent  it  you.    Pause  a  moment,  and  look  at 
yourself  by  the  side  of  this  honest  (irascible  ?)  and  mag- 
nanimous honest  man,  whose  hand  a  single  paragraph  of 
yours  made  me  long  to  grasp  in  mine. 

D.  "  When  its  topic  would  run  to  that  portion  which 
forms  the  golden  part  of  Cupid's  dart."    This  sentence 
is  rank  nonsense.    No  more  of  this,  or  I  shall  fear  I  have 
warmed  a  poetaster. 

E.  "  Oh,  cursed  night  and  place,  that  robbed  a  virgin 
of  her  purity ;"  "  and  oh,  cursed  Tyne,"  that  did  not  turn 
policeman ;  and  oh,  blessed  Robinson,  that  was  alone  to 
blame.    Why,  what  bombast  is  this  ?    Always  put  the 


234  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF  -A   THIEF. 

saddle  on  the  right  horse,  and  don't  be  so  fond  of  curs- 
ing: believe  me,  it  is  a  bad  habit.  You  cursed  Mr. 
Hawes,  who  needed  all  our  prayers — you  cursed  him  hi 
earnest ;  and  now  you  are  off  at  a  tangent,  evading  those 
just  expressions  of  serious  self-reproach  proper  to  the 
situation,  and  cursing  in  jest  the  coaly  Tyne,  benefactor 
of  a  province,  and  the  night,  a  blessing  wide  as  the  world. 
Bless,  and  curse  not ! 

F.  The  turning  point  of  your  life.    Had  you  staid  at 
Newcastle  and  faced  it  out  like  a  man,  there  would  have 
been  a  storm,  I  grant  you :  the  old  chemist  would  have 
raved ;  but  Nature  is  strong ;  for  his  daughter's  sake  he 
would  have  ended  by  marrying  you  to  her,  and  you 
would  be  master  of  the  shop  now — an  honest  citizen  of 
Newcastle ;  but,  though  you  had  given  up  theft,  you  had 
not  forgotten  how  to  lie. 

Observe !  this  is  a  new  starting-point ;  all  the  rest  of 
your  life  will  be  a  consequence  of  that  single  falsehood ; 
so  now  we  shall  see  whether  the  Bible  is  wrong  in  its 
hatred  and  terror  of  a  lie. 

G.  You  did  not  love  her.    Don't  flatter  yourself.    If  a 
thief  loved  a  woman,  he  would  steal  her ;  if  a  five-pound 
note  had  been  as  easy  to  filch  from  the  old  chemist  as 
this  poor  girl,  I  know  who  would  have  taken  it,  collected 
it,  removed  it,  abstracted  it,  and  changed  its  relative 
situation.    You  never  loved  her ;  but  I  fear  she  loved  you. 

H.  Real  wisdom  and  observation  in  this  remark. 

I.  Why  is  a  twang  worse  than  a  brogue  ?  and  why 
should  it  disgrace  the  native  of  a  small  nation  to  be 
taken  for  the  native  of  a  great  nation?  Is  a  sucker 
nobler  than  its  tree  ? 

J.  "  Ashamed  ?"  The  little  humbug  could  not  resist 
showing  me  his  wit,  of  which  lie  says  he  is  ashamed. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   THIEF.  235 

K.  That  I  can  readily  believe  of  you,  and  it  is  by  your 
affections  we  must  try  and  save  you,  with  God's  help. 

I  sum  up  your  career  as  Dr.  Johnson  did  the  "  Beg- 
gar's Opera." 

"  Here  is  a  labefaction  of  all  principle : 
Many  good  impulses — dug  in  sand. 
Many  good  feelings — unstable  as  water. 
Many  good  resolves — written  in  air. 

But  not  the  thousandth  part  of  a  gram  of  principle." 

But  how  human  your  sad  story  is  in  every  part ;  yet 
there  are  people  who  will  dream  that  you  and  your  fel- 
lows are  monsters,  and  prescribe  monstrous  remedies  for 
your  souls. 

I  thank  you  for  the  general  candor  of  your  narrative ; 
it  renders  my  task  a  little  easier. 

I  have  many  things  to  say  to  you  seriously  and  sadly 
about  points  in  this  story ;  above  all,  I  must  show  you 
that  you  are  not  innocent  of  poor  Miss  B.'s  death,  whose 
unhappy  fate  has  made  me  very  sad.  My  poor  fellow, 
you  have  not  yet  comprehended  how  much  this  poor 
girl  loved  you,  nor  the  variety  of  tortures  she  was  en- 
during all  the  while  you  were  jaunting  it  at  your  ease 
all  over  the  world.  These  killed  her.  I  will  make  you 
see  this,  and  repent  far  more  deeply  than  you  have  done. 
Half  the  cruelty  in  the  world  comes  by  want  of  intelli- 
gence. 

I  must  compliment  you  on  your  literary  powers :  this 
is  really  an  astonishing  composition  for  a  complete  nov- 
ice. I  observe  that  toward  the  close  of  it,  short  as  it  is, 
you  have  already  become  a  better  writer  than  you  were 
at  starting — your  style  more  disengaged,  fewer  Sir  Ab- 
lative Absolutes,  polysyllables,  involved  sentences,  and 
less  ungraramatical  eloquence. 

If  it  will  give  you  any  pleasure  to  hear  it,  know  that 
in  a  pretty  large  experience  of  scholars,  artists,  lawyers, 
and  men  of  business,  I  never  encountered  a  man  with 


236  AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 

livelier  and  more  versatile  powers  than  yourself.  You 
ought  to  be  leading  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  you 
are  here ! 

I  do  not,  however,  admire  most  the  passages  on  which 
you  probably  pride  yourself;  for  instance,  the  sublime 
passage  beginning  "  Is  it  a  castle  ?" 

Here  rhetoric  intruded  unseasonably  upon  feeling. 
The  plain  narrative  of  your  poor  sweetheart's  death-bed ; 
of  her  telling  you,  woman -like,  that  she  was  more  to 
blame  for  being  tempted  than  you  for  tempting  her ;  her 
death  and  your  remorse,  moistened  my  eyes  as  I  read, 
but  your  sublime  reflections  dried  them  on  the  spot. 

Your  eloquence  reminded  me  that  you  are  a  humbug, 
and  never  really  loved  this  poor  girl :  all  the  worse  for 
you. 

You  felt  and  feel  remorse,  and  shall  feel  more,  but 
you  never  loved  Miss  B. ;  do  not  flatter  yourself. 

It  is  hardly  fair  to  dissect  the  sublime ;  still  permit 
me,  with  due  timidity  and  respect,  to  suggest  that  you 
have  taken  similitudes  and  called  them  distinctions — 
contrasted  where  you  should  have  compared.  A  mould- 
ering castle,  a  mute  senate-house,  and  a  ruined  temple 
are  not  unlike,  but  like,  an  inanimate  body. 

What  says  the  poet  writing  of  a  skull  ? 

"Can  all  that  saint,  sage,  sophist,  ever  writ, 
People  this  lonely  hall,  this  tenement  refit?" 

In  matters  literary  begin  with  logic;  build  on  that 
rhetoric  or  what  ornaments  you  will. 

In  matters  moral  begin  with  a  grain  of  sense  and  prin- 
ciple, and  on  them  raise  the  ingenuity  and  versatile  tal- 
ents of  Mr.  Thomas  Robinson !  Thus  you  shall  not  sub- 
limely stumble  in  letters,  nor  in  conduct  be  an  ingenious, 
able,  versatile,  gifted,  clever  blockhead  and  fool. 

You  called  the  nightingale  "  him." 

This  shocks  an  innocent  prejudice. 

In  science,  it  is  to  be  feared,  there  are  cock  nightin- 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  237 

gales.    But  you  were  favoring  us  with  a  poetic  touch, 
and  in  poetry  nightingales  are  ah1  hens. 

Remind  me  some  day  to  tell  you  the  story  of  Philo- 
mele. 

Your  closing  sentences  are  sad,  and  would  make  me 
as  sad  or  sadder  if  I  saw  your  real  mind  in  them ;  but 
this  is  only  a  temporary  despondency,  the  effect  of  sep- 
arate confinement,  which  is  beginning  to  tell  on  you,  spite 
of  all  we  can  do. 

I  shall  get  your  sentence  shortened,  and  you  will  soon 
cross  the  water ;  so  you  see  there  is  nothing  to  despond 
about.  Your  prospects  were  never  so  bright.  You  are 
now  master  of  one  craft,  and  well  advanced  in  others ; 
you  are  at  no  man's  mercy ;  your  own  hands  avail  to 
feed,  and  keep,  and  clothe  you.  Be  honest,  and  you  will 
always  be  well  off.  Consecrate  your  talents  to  God's 
service,  and  you  will  most  likely  be  happy  even  in  this 
world.  And  for  the  short  time  you  have  to  remain  in 
confinement,  we  will  find  you  all  the  occupation  and 
amusement  the  law  permits ;  and  if  you  ever  feel  great- 
ly depressed,  ring  that  moment  for  Evans  or  me,  and  we 
will  chase  the  foul  fiend  away. 

So  cheer  up,  and  don't  fancy  you  are  alone,  when  by 
putting  out  your  hand  you  can  bring  an  honest  fellow  to 
your  side  who  pities  you,  and  me  who  love  you. 

F.  E. 


238  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  A  THIEF. 


PRISON  THOUGHTS. 

Caged  in  a  prison  cell,  how  sad,  yet  true, 

Does  the  lone  heart  bring  former  scenes  to  view, 

Till  the  racked  mind  with  bitter  phrensy  driven, 

Maligns  the  just  decrees  of  man  and  heaven. 

The  grated  bars,  and  iron-studded  door, 

The  cold  bare  walls,  and  chilly  pavement  floor, 

The  hammock,  table,  stool,  and  pious  book, 

The  jailer's  stealthy  tread  and  jealous  look, 

Force  back  the  maddened  thoughts  to  other  days, 

When  joyous  youth  was  crowned  with  hopeful  bays; 

E'er  rank  luxuriant  folly  reigned  supreme, 

As  if  this  life  was  nothing  but  a  dream, 

Or  the  dire  cup  had  seared  the  unblighted  heart, 

And  caused  all  holy  feelings  to  depart — 

E'er  each  sweet  hour,  so  innocently  gay, 

Passed  like  a  mellow  summer's  eve  away. 

Cursed  be  the  hour  when  first  I  turned  astray 

From  keeping  sacred  God's  own  hallowed  day — 

When  first  I  learned  to  sip  the  poisoned  bowl, 

That  kills  the  body  and  corrupts  the  soul. 

'Twas  then  my  godly  lessons,  one  by  one, 

Fled  from  my  giddy  heart  till  all  were  gone, 

And  left  behind  a  waste  and  dreary  wild, 

A  conscience  hardened,  and  a  soul  defiled. 

Oh !  when  I  think  on  what  I've  been,  and  see 

My  present  state,  and  think  what  I  may  be, 

Despair  and  horror  burns  and  boils  within 

For  years  of  folly  and  continued  sin, 

Until  my  brain  seems  bursting  with  the  dread 

Of  Heaven's  just  judgments  falling  on  my  head. 

No  baneful  passions  fired  my  tranquil  mind, 

No  wild,  unruly  thoughts  ranged  unconfined, 

But  all  was  fan-,  and  gladsome  as  the  grove, 

Where  warbling  songsters  live  in  artless  love. 

How  changed  my  lot !     No  sister,  mother,  sire, 

Now  fondly  sit  around  the  wintry  fire ; 

No  household  song  beguiles  the  lengthened  night, 

No  homely  jest  creates  a  fond  delight, 


Q 

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AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF.  241 

No  Sabbath  morning  sees  us  now  engage. 
In  rapt  attention  on  the  holy  page, 
Or  hears  the  swelling  notes  of  praise  and  prayer 
Borne  on  the  breeze,  and  floating  on  the  air. 
Oh !  could  my  parents'  shades  but  bend  on  earth, 
They'd  mourn  like  me  the  morning  of  my  birth. 
Almighty  Father !  God  of  Life  and  Death  ! 
Give,  oh !  give  me  a  true  and  living  faith. 
Bestow  Thy  quickening  Spirit,  and  impart 
Thy  saving  Grace  to  tranquilize  my  heart, 
That  I  may  better  live  for  time  to  come, 
And  rear  my  spirit  for  Thy  heavenly  home. 
L 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF   A   THIEF. 


THE  LAW  AND  THE  GOSPEL. 

A  Sermon  preached  in  the  Chapel  of     *     Jail,  on  Sunday,  9th  January,  1849, 
from  Matthew  5th  and  ITth,  by  the  Kev.  Francis  Eden,  and  versified 

BY  ONE  OF  THE  PRISONERS. 

'Mid  rolling  clouds  of  fearful  smoke, 
'Mid  lightning's  flash  and  thunder's  roar, 

'Mid  loud  continued  sounds,  which  shook 
The  startled  earth  from  shore  to  shore, 

'Mid  volumes  of  devouring  flame, 

Unseen,  yet  felt,  the  Almighty  came. 

Lo !  on  Mount  Sinai's  giddy  height 

Is  reared  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 
Pregnant  with  Heaven's  ethereal  light, 

Too  glorious  to  be  gazed  upon, 
While  beams  of  dazzling  brightness  bound 
The  circuit  of  the  hallowed  ground. 

Hark !  as  the  appalling  voice  of  God 

Proclaims  the  law  of  Life  and  Death, 
Nature,  o'erburdened  with  the  load, 

Holds  hard  her  almost  fleeting  breath, 
While  sunless  heaven  and  darkened  air 
Are  hung  with  blackness  of  despair. 

Offspring  of  Gentile  and  of  Jew, 

Descendants  of  a  common  stock, 
These  great  eternal  laws  for  you 

Were  thundered  from  Mount  Sinai's  rock ; 
And  ill  or  good  on  him  shall  fall 
Who  breaks  but  one,  or  keeps  them  all. 

But  oh  !  weak  man  can  ne'er  obey 
Laws  with  such  fearful  justice  fraught, 

For  every  moment  of  the  day 

He  sins  in  word,  or  deed,  or  thought. 

The  Law  of  Death  would  thus  enslave  him, 

Did  not  a  pardoning  Gospel  save  him. 

From  Calvary's  hill  a  stream  proceeds, 
Whose  cleansing  merits  all  may  share, 

Ay,  even  although  their  guilt  exceeds 
The  weight  of  what  the  earth  can  bear. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY    OF    A   THIEF.  243 

For  Christ's  atoning  blood  can  clean 
A  hell-deserving  world  from  sin. 

No  lightning's  flash,  no  scowling  sky, 
No  trembling  mount  of  smoke  and  flame, 

No  crashing  thunder  boomed  from  high 
When  our  Great  Mediator  came  ; 

But  seraph's  sounds  announced  to  earth 

Glad  tidings  of  a  Savior's  birth. 

No  chosen  consecrated  priest, 

No  heaps  of  slain  or  seas  of  blood, 
Nor  solemn  fast,  nor  stated  feast, 

Can  now  appease  a  jealous  God, 
Or  open  up  a  fount  of  grace 
To  Adam's  unregenerate  race. 

An  humble  heart,  a  lowly  mind, 

A  contrite  and  believing  soul, 
Where  Truth  and  Mercy  are  enshrined 

Beyond  a  sinful  world's  control, 
Is  all  the  God  of  heaven  will  claim 
From  those  who  own  Immanuel's  name. 

How  goodly  are  the  steps  of  those 

Who  walk  in  humbleness  of  heart, 
And  with  well-grounded  hopes  have  chose 

The  Gospel's  sure  and  better  part. 
To  such  the  law  of  works  is  dead, 
Through  faith  in  Christ,  their  living  head. 

But  as  Jehovah's  dread  decree 

Does  with  a  Savior's  love  unite, 
So  let  our  faith  and  works  agree, 

In  one  continued  bond  of  light ; 
For  faith  and  works,  if  used  alone, 
Can  ne'er  for  guilty  deeds  atone. 

Then  fly,  ye  sinners,  to  the  Cross, 

There  let  your  eager  hopes  be  bound, 
Count  all  things  else  but  dung  and  dross 

To  win  Christ,  and  in  him  be  found  ; 
So  shall  your  Christian  race  be  bless'd 
With  Heaven's  prepared  eternal  rest. 

*     Jail,  3d  Feby.,  1849. 
Prisoner's  name — THOMAS  ROBINSON. 


JACK   OF   ALL   TRADES. 

%  JUatter-of-Jact  Homana. 


JACK  OF  ALL  TRADES, 

31  ittatter-of-fact  Bomcmc*. 


THERE  are  nobs  in  the  world,  and  there  are  snobs. 

I  regret  to  say  I  belong  to  the  latter  department. 

There  are  men  that  roll  through  life,  like  a  fire  new 
red  ball  going  across  Mr.  Lord's  cricket-ground  on  a  sun- 
shiny day ;  there  is  another  sort  that  have  to  rough  it  in 
general,  and,  above  all,  to  fight  tooth  and  nail  for  the 
quartern-loaf,  and  not  always  win  the  battle.  I  am  one 
of  this  lot. 

One  comfort,  folk  are  beginning  to  take  an  interest  in 
us.  I  see  nobs  of  the  first  water  looking  with  a  fatherly 
eye  into  our  affairs — our  leaden  taxes  and  feather  in- 
comes ;  our  fifteen  per  cent,  on  undeniable  security  when 
the  rich  pay  but  three  and  a  half;  our  privations  and 
vexations ;  our  dirt  and  distresses ;  and  one  day  a  literary 
gent,  that  knows  my  horrible  story,  assured  me  that  my 
ups  and  downs  would  entertain  the  nobility,  gentry,  and 
commonalty  of  these  realms. 

"  Instead  of  grumbling  to  me,"  says  he,  "  print  your 
troubles,  and  I  promise  you  all  the  world  will  read  them, 
and  laugh  at  them." 

"  No  doubt,  sir,"  said  I,  rather  ironical ;  "  all  the  world 
is  at  leisure  for  that." 

"  Why,  look  at  the  signs  of  the  times,"  says  he ;  "  can't 
you  see  workmen  are  up  ?  so  take  us  while  we  are  in  the 
humor,  and  that  is  now.  We  shall  not  always  be  for 
squeezing  honey  out  of  weeds,  shall  we  ?"  "  Not  likely, 
sir,"  says  I.  Says  he,  "  How  nice  it  will  be  to  growl 


248  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

wholesale  to  a  hundred  thousand  of  your  countrymen 
(which  they  do  love  a  bit  of  a  growl),  instead  of  growl- 
ing retail  to  a  small  family  that  has  got  hardened  to 
you !"  And  there  he  had  me ;  for  I  am  an  Englishman, 
and  proud  of  it,  and  attached  to  ah1  the  national  habits 
except  delirium  tremens.  In  short,  what  with  him  in- 
flaming my  dormant  conceit,  and  me  thinking, "  Well,  I 
can  but  say  my  say,  and  then  relapse  into  befitting  si- 
lence," I  did  one  day  lay  down  the  gauge  and  take  up 
the  pen,  in  spite  of  my  wife's  sorrowful  looks. 

She  says  nothing,  but  you  may  see  she  does  not  believe 
hi  the  new  tool,  and  that  is  cheerful  and  inspiriting  to  a 
beginner. 

However,  there  is  a  something  that  gives  me  more 
confidence  than  all  my  literary  friend  says  about  "  work- 
men being  up  in  the  literary  world,"  and  that  is  that  I 
am  not  the  hero  of  my  own  story. 

Small  as  I  sit  here  behind  my  wife's  crockery  and  my 
own  fiddles,  in  this  thundering  hole,  Wardour  Street,  I 
was  for  many  years  connected  with  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated females  of  modern  tunes.  Her  adventures  run 
side  by  side  with  mine.  She  is  the  bit  of  romance  that 
colors  my  humble  life,  and  my  safest  excuse  for  intruding 
on  the  public. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FATHER  and  mother  lived  in  King  Street,  Soho :  he 
was  a  fiddle-maker,  and  taught  me  the  A  B  C  of  that  sci- 
ence— at  odd  times ;  for  I  had  a  regular  education,  and 
a  very  good  one,  at  a  school  in  West  Street.  This  part 
of  my  life  was  as  smooth  as  glass.  My  troubles  did  not 
begin  till  I  was  thirteen :  at  that  age  my  mother  died, 
and  then  I  found  out  what  she  had  been  to  me :  that  was 
the  first  and  the  worst  grief;  the  next  I  thought  bad 
enough:  Coming  in  from  school  one  day,  about  nine 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  249 

months  after  her  death,  I  found  a  woman  sitting  by  the 
fire  opposite  father. 

I  came  to  a  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  with  two 
eyes  like  saucers,  staring  at  the  pair ;  so  my  father  intro- 
duced me. 

"  This  is  your  new  mother.     Anne,  this  is  John !" 

"  Come  and  kiss  me,  John,"  says  the  lady.  Instead 
of  which  John  stood  stock  still,  and  burst  out  roaring 
and  crying  without  the  least  leaving  off  staring,  which  to 
be  sure  was  a  cheerful,  encouraging  reception  for  a  lady 
just  come  into  the  family.  I  roared  pretty  hard  for  about 
ten  seconds,  then  stopped  dead  short,  and  says  I,  with  a 
sudden  calm,  the  more  awful  for  the  storm  that  had 
raged  before,  "  I'll  go  and  tell  Mr.  Paley !"  and  out  I 
marched. 

Mr.  Paley  was  a  little  hump-backed  tailor,  with  the 
heart  of  a  dove  and  the  spirit  of  a  lion  or  two.  I  made 
his  acquaintance  through  pitching  into  two  boys  that 
were  queering  his  protuberances  all  down  Princes  Street, 
Soho ;  a  kind  of  low  humor  he  detested ;  and  he  had  taken 
quite  a  fancy  to  me.  We  were  hand  and  glove,  the  old 
man  and  me. 

I  ran  to  Paley  and  told  him  what  had  befallen  upon 
the  house.  He  was  not  struck  all  of  a  heap,  as  I  thought 
he  would  be ;  and  he  showed  me  it  was  legal,  of  which 
I  had  not  an  idea ;  and  his  advice  was,  "  Put  a  good  face 
on  it,  or  the  house  will  soon  be  too  hot  to  hold  you,  boy." 

He  was  right.  I  don't  know  whether  it  was  my  fault 
or  hers,  or  both's,  but  we  could  never  mix.  I  had  seen 
another  face  by  that  fireside,  and  heard  another  voice  in 
the  house,  that  seemed  to  me  a  deal  more  melodious  than 
hers,  and  the  house  did  become  hotter,  and  the  inmates' 
looks  colder  than  agreeable :  so  one  day  I  asked  my  fa- 
ther to  settle  me  in  some  other  house  not  less  than  a 
mile  from  King  Street,  Soho.  He  and  stepmother  jump- 
ed at  the  offer,  and  apprenticed  me  to  Mr.  Dawes.  Here 
I  learned  more  mysteries  of  guitar-making,  violin-making, 
L2 


250  JACK    OP    ALL   TKADES. 

etc.,  etc.,  and  lived  in  tolerable  comfort  nearly  four  years : 
there  was  a  ripple  on  the  water,  though.  My  master  had 
a  brother,  a  thickset,  heavy  fellow,  that  used  to  bully  my 
master,  especially  when  he  was  groggy,  and  less  able  to 
take  his  own  part.  My  master  being  a  good  fellow,  I 
used  to  side  with  him,  and  this  brought  me  a  skinful  of 
sore  bones  more  than  once,  I  can  tell  you.  But  one  night, 
after  some  months  of  peace,  I  heard  a  terrible  scrimmage, 
and,  running  down  into  the  shop-parlor,  I  found  Dawes 
junior  pegging  into  Dawes  senior  no  allowance,  and  him 
crying  blue  murder. 

I  was  now  an  able-bodied  youth  between  sixteen  and 
seventeen  years  of  age,  and,  having  a  little  score  of  my 
own  with  the  attacking  party,  I  opened  quite  silent  and 
business-like  with  a  one,  two,  and  knocked  him  into  a 
corner  flat  perpendicular.  He  was  dumbfoundered  for  a 
moment,  but  the  next  he  came  out  like  a  bull  at  me.  I 
stepped  on  one  side,  and  met  him  with  a  blow  on  the 
side  of  the  temple,  and  knocked  him  flat  horizontal ;  and 
when  he  offered  to  rise,  I  shook  my  fist  at  him,  and 
threatened  him  he  should  come  to  grief  if  he  dared  to 
move. 

At  this  time  he  went  on  quite  a  different  lay.  He  lay 
still,  and  feigned  dissolution  with  considerable  skill,  to 
frighten  us;  and  I  can't  say  I  felt  easy  at  all;  but  my 
master,  who  took  cheerful  views  of  every  thing  in  his 
cups,  got  the  enemy's  tumbler  of  brandy  and  water,  and 
with  hiccoughs  and  absurd  smiles,  and  a  tea-spoon,  depos- 
ited the  contents  gradually  on  the  various  parts  of  his 
body. 
,  "  Lez  revive  'm !"  said  he. 

This  was  low  life  to  come  to  pass  in  a  respectable 
tradesman's  back  parlor.  But,  when  grog  comes  in  at 
the  door,  good  manners  walk  to  the  window,  ready  to 
take  leave  if  requested.  Where  there  is  drink  there  is 
always  degradation  of  some  sort  or  degree :  put  that  in 
your  tumblers  and  sip  it ! 


JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES.  251 

After  this  no  more  battles.  The  lowly  apprentice's 
humble  efforts  (pugilistic)  restored  peace  to  his  master's 
family. 

Six  months  of  calm  industry  now  rolled  over,  and  then 
I  got  into  trouble  by  my  own  fault. 

Looking  back  upon  the  various  fancies,  and  opinions, 
and  crotchets  that  have  passed  through  my  head  at  one 
time  or  another,  I  find  that,  between  the  years  of  seven- 
teen and  twenty-four,  a  strange  notion  beset  me ;  it  was 
this :  that  women  are  all  angels. 

For  this  chimera  I  now  began  to  suffer,  and  continued 
to  at  intervals  till  the  error  was  rooted  out — with  their 
assistance. 

There  were  two  women  in  my  master's  house — his 
sister,  aged  twenty-four,  and  his  cook,  aged  thirty-seven. 
With  both  these  I  fell  ardently  hi  love ;  and  so,  with  my 
sentiments,  I  should  have  with  six,  had  the  house  held 
half  a  dozen.  Unluckily,  my  affections  were  not  accom- 
panied with  the  discretion  so  ticklish  a  situation  called 
for.  The  ladies  found  one  another  out,  and  I  fell  a  victim 
to  the  virtuous  indignation  that  fired  three  bosoms. 

The  cook,  in  virtuous  indignation  that  an  apprentice 
should  woo  his  master's  sister,  told  my  master. 

The  young  lady,  in  virtuous  indig.  that  a  boy  should 
make  a  fool  of  "  that  old  woman,"  told  my  master,  who, 
unluckily  for  me,  was  now  the  quondam  Dawes  junior ; 
Dawes  senior  having  retired  from  the  active  business, 
and  turned  sleeping  and  drinking  partner. 

My  master,  whose  v.  i.  was  the  strongest  of  the  three, 
since  it  was  him  I  had  leathered,  took  me  to  Bow  Street, 
made  his  complaint,  and  forced  me  to  cancel  my  indent- 
ures ;  the  cook,  with  tears,  packed  up  my  Sunday  suit ; 
the  young  lady  opened  her  bedroom  door  three  inches, 
and  shut  it  with  a  don't-come-anigh-me  slam ;  and  I  drift- 
ed out  to  London  with  eighteen  pence  and  my  tools. 

On  looking  back  on  this  incident  of  my  life,  I  have  a 
regret — a  poignant  one ;  it  is,  that  some  good  Christian 


•252  JACK    OF    AiL   TRADES. 

•. 

did  not  give  me  a  devilish  good  hiding  into  the  bai'gain 
then  and  there. 

I  did  not  feel  quite  strong  enough  in  the  spirits  to  go 
where  I  was  sure  to  be  blown  up,  so  I  skirted  King  Street 
and  entered  the  Seven  Dials,  and  went  to  Mr.  Paley  and 
confessed  my  sins. 

How  differently  the  same  thing  is  seen  by  different 
eyes !  All  the  morning  I  had  been  called  a  young  vil- 
lain, first  by  one,  then  by  another,  till  at  last  I  began  to 
see  it.  Mr.  Paley  viewed  me  in  the  light  of  martyr,  and 
I  remember  I  fell  into  his  views  on  the  spot. 

Paley  was  a  man  that  had  his  little  theory  about  wom- 
en, and  it  differed  from  my  juvenile  one. 

He  held  that  women  are  at  bottom  the  seducers,  men 
the  seduced.  "  The  men  court  the  women,  I  grant  you, 
but  so  it  is  the  fish  that  rims  after  the  bait,"  said  he. 
"  The  women  draw  back  ?  yes,  and  so  does  the  angler 
draw  back  the  bait  when  the  fish  are  shy,  don't  he  ?  and 
then  the  silly  gudgeons  misunderstand  the  move,  and 
make  a  rush  at  it,  and  get  hooked — like  you." 

Holding  such  vile  sentiments,  he  shifted  all  the  blame 
off  my  shoulders.  He  turned  to  and  abused  the  whole 
gang,  as  he  called  the  family  in  Litchfield  Street  I  had 
just  left,  instead  of  reading  me  the  lesson  for  the  day, 
which  he  ought,  and  I  should  have  listened  to  from  him 
— perhaps. 

"  Now,  then,  don't  hang  your  head  like  that,"  shouted 
the  spunky  little  fellow,  "  sniveling  and  whimpering  at 
your  time  of  life !  We  are  going  to  have  a  jolly  good 
supper,  you  and  I,  that  is  what  we  are  going  to  do ;  and 
you  shall  sleep  here.  My  daughter  is  at  school ;  you 
shall  have  her  room.  I  am  in  good  work — thirty  shil- 
lings a  week — that  is  plenty  for  three,  Lucy  and  you  and 
me"  (himself  last).  "Your  father  isn't  worth  a  bone 
button,  and  your  mother  isn't  worth  the  shank  to  it ;  I'm 
your  father,  and  your  mother  into  the'  bargain,  for  want 
of  a  better.  You  live  with  me,  and  snap  your  fingers  at 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  253 

Dawes  and  all  his  crew — ha !  ha !  a  fine  loss,  to  be  sure. 
The  boy  is  a  fool — cooks,  and  coquettes,  and  fiddle- 
t  outers,  rubbish  not  worth  picking  up  out  of  a  gutter — 
they  be  d — d." 

And  so  I  was  installed  in  Miss  Paley's  apartment,  Seven 
Dials ;  and  nothing  would  have  made  my  adopted  parent 
happier  than  for  me  to  put  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  and 
live  upon  goose  and  cabbage.  But  downright  laziness 
was  never  my  character.  I  went  round  to  all  the  fiddle- 
shops,  and  offered,  as  bold  as  brass,  to  make  a  violin,  a 
tenor  or  a  bass,  and  bring  it  home.  Most  of  them  look- 
ed shy  at  me,  for  it  was  necessary  to  trust  me  with  the 
wood,  and  to  lendjne  one  or  two  of  the  higher  class  of 
tools,  such  as  a  turning-saw  and  a  jointing-plane. 

At  last  I  came  to  Mr.  Dodd,  in  Berners  Street.  Here 
my  father's  name  stood  me  in  stead.  Mr.  Dodd  risked 
his  wood  and  the  needful  tools,  and  in  eight  days  I 
brought  him,  with  conceit  and  trepidation  mixed  in 
equal  part,  a  violin,  which  I  had  sometimes  feared  would 
frighten  him,  and  sometimes  hoped  would  charm  him. 
He  took  it  up,  gave  it  one  twirl  round,  satisfied  himself 
it  was  a  fiddle,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  put  it  in  the 
window  along  with  the  rest,  and  paid  for  it  as  he  would 
for  a  penny  roll.  I  timidly  proposed  to  make  another  for 
him ;  he  grunted  a  consent,  which  it  did  not  seem  to  me 
a  rapturous  one. 

Mr.  Metzler  also  ventured  to  give  me  work  of  this 
kind.  For  some  months  I  wrought  hard  all  day,  and 
amused  myself  with  my  companions  all  the  evening,  se- 
lecting my  pals  from  the  following  classes :  small  actors, 
showmen,  pedestrians,  and  clever  discontented  mechanics ; 
one  lot  I  never  would  have  at  any  price,  and  that  was 
the  stupid  ones,  that  could  only  booze,  and  could  not  tell 
me  any  thing  I  did  not  know  about  pleasure,  business, 
and  life. 

This  was  a  bright  existence;  so  it  came  to  a  full 
stop. 


JACK    OF    ALL   TBADES. 


At  one  and  the  same  time  Miss  Paley  came  home,  and 
the  fiddle-trade  took  one  of  those  chills  all  fancy  trades 
are  subject  to. 

No  work — no  lodging  without  paying  for  it — no 
wherewithal. 


CHAPTER  II. 

JOHN  BEABD,  a  friend  of  mine,  was  a  painter  and 
grainer.  His  art  was  to  imitate  oak,  maple,  walnut,  sat- 
in-wood, etc.,  etc.,  upon  vulgar  deal,  beach,  or  what  not. 

This  business  works  thus :  first  a  coat  of  oil-color  is 
put  on  with  a  brush,  and  this  color  imitates  what  may  be 
called  the  background  of  the  wood  that  is  aimed  at ;  on 
this  oil-background  the  champ,  the  fibre,  the  grain  and 
figure,  and  all  the  incidents  of  the  superior  wood,  are  imi- 
tated by  various  manoeuvres  in  water-colors,  or,  rather, 
in  beer-colors,  for  beer  is  the  approved  medium.  A  coat 
of  varnish  over  all  gives  a  look  of  unity  to  the  work. 

Beard  was  out  of  employ;  so  was  I — bitter  against 
London;  so  was  I.  He  sounded  me  about  trying  the 
country,  and  I  agreed ;  and  this  was  the  first  step  of  my 
many  travels. 

We  started  the  next  day — he  with  his  brushes,  and  a 
few  colors,  and  one  or  two  thin  panels  painted  by  way 
of  advertisement,  and  I  with  hope,  inexperience,  and 
threepence.  On  the  road  we  spent  this  and  his  five- 
pence,  and  entered  the  town  of  Brentford  toward  night- 
fall as  empty  as  drums  and  as  hungry  as  wolves. 

What  was  to  be  done?  After  a  long  discussion,  we 
agreed  to  go  to  the  mayor  of  the  town  and  tell  him  our 
case,  and  ofier  to  paint  his  street  door  in  the  morning  if 
he  would  save  our  lives  for  the  night. 

We  went  to  the  mayor ;  luckily  for  us,  he  had  risen 
from  nothing,  as  we  were  going  to  do,  and  so  he  knew 
exactly  what  we  meant  when  we  looked  up  in  his  face 


JACK    OF   ALL  TEADE8.  255 

and  laid  our  hands  on  our  sausage-grinders.  He  gave  us 
eighteen  pence  and  an  order  on  a  lodging-house,  and  put 
bounds  to  our  gratitude  by  making  us  promise  to  let  his 
street  door  alone.  We  thanked  him  from  our  hearts, 
supped  and  went  to  bed,  and  agreed  the  country  (as  we 
two  cockneys  called  Brentford)  was  chock  full  of  good 
fellows. 

The  next  day  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  away  to 
Hounslow.  Here  Beard  sought  work  all  through  the 
town,  and  just  when  we  were  in  despair  he  got  one  door. 
We  dined  and  slept  on  this  door,  but  we  could  not  sup 
off  it ;  we  had  twopence  over,  though,  for  the  morning, 
and  walked  on  a  penny  roll  each  to  Maidenhead. 

Here,  as  we  entered  the  town,  we  passed  a  little  house 
with  the  door  painted  oak,  and  a  brass  plate  announcing 
a  plumber  and  glazier,  and  house-painter.  Beard  pulled 
up  before  this  door  in  sorrowful  contempt.  "  Now  look 
here,  John,"  says  he,  "  here  is  a  fellow  living  among  the 
woods,  and  you  would  swear  he  never  saw  an  oak  plank 
in  his  life  to  look  at  his  work." 

Before  so  very  long  we  came  to  another  specimen : 
this  was  maple,  and  farther  from  Nature  than  a  lawyer 
from  heaven,  as  the  saying  is.  "  There,  that  will  do," 
says  Beard.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  we  must  try  a  dif- 
ferent move ;  it  is  no  use  looking  for  work ;  folks  will 
only  employ  their  own  tradesmen ;  we  must  teach  the 
professors  of  the  art  at  so  much  a. panel." 

"  Will  they  stomach  that  ?"  said  I. 

"  I  think  they  will,  as  we  are  strangers  and  from  Lon- 
don. You  go  and  see  whether  there  is  a  fiddle  to  be 
doctored  in  the  town,  and  meet  me  again  in  the  market- 
place at  twelve  o'clock." 

I  did  meet  him,  and  forlorn  enough  I  was.  My  trade 
had  broke  down  in  Maidenhead ;  not  a  job  of  any  sort. 

"Come  to  the  public  house!"  was  his  first  word. 
That  sounded  well,  I  thought. 

We  sat  down  to  bread  and  cheese  and  beer,  and  he 
told  his  tale. 


256  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

It  seems  he  went  into  a  shop,  told  the  master  he  was 
a  painter  and  grainer  from  a  great  establishment  in  Lon- 
don, and  was  in  the  habit  of  traveling  and  instructing 
provincial  artists  in  the  business.  The  man  was  a  pomp- 
ous sort  of  a  customer,  and  told  Beard  he  knew  the  busi- 
ness as  well  as  he  did,  better  belike. 

Beard  answered,  "Then  you  are  the  only  one  here 
that  does ;  for  I've  been  all  through  the  town,  and  any 
thing  wider  from  the  mark  than  their  oak  and  maple  I 
never  saw."  Then  he  quietly  took  down  his  panels  and 
spread  them  out,  and,  looking  out  sharp,  he  noticed  a 
sudden  change  come  over  the  man's  face. 

"Well,"  says  the  man,  "we  reckon  ourselves  pretty 
good  at  it  in  this  town.  However,  I  shouldn't  mind  see- 
ing how  you  London  chaps  do  it :  what  do  you  charge 
for  a  specimen  ?" 

"My  charge  is  two  shillings  a  panel.  What  wood 
should  you  like  to  gain  a  notion  of?"  said  Beard,  as  dry 
as  a  chip. 

"  Well — satin-wood." 

Beard  painted  a  panel  of  satin-wood  before  his  eyes, 
and,  of  course,  it  was  done  with  great  ease,  and  on  a  bet- 
ter system  than  had  reached  Maidenhead  up  to  that  time. 
"  Now,"  says  Beard,  "  I  must  go  to  dinner." 

"  Well,  come  back  again,  my  lad,"  says  the  man,  "  and 
we  will  go  in  for  something  else."  So  Beard  took  his 
two  shillings  and  met  me  as  aforesaid. 

After  dinner  he  asked  for  a  private  room.  "A  private 
room,"  said  I ;  "  hadn't  you  better  order  our  horse  and 
gig  out,  and  go  and  call  on  the  rector  ?" 

"  None  of  your  chaff,"  says  he. 

When  we  got  into  the  room  he  opened  the  business. 

"  Your  trade  is  no  good ;  you  must  take  to  mine." 

"  What !  teach  painters  how  to  paint,  when  I  don't 
know  a  stroke  myself!" 

"  Why  not  ?  You've  only  got  it  to  learn ;  they  have  got 
to  unlearn  all  they  know;  that  is  the  only  long  process 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  257 

about  it.  I'll  teach  you  in  five  minutes,"  says  he :  "  look 
here."  He  then  imitated  oak  before  me,  and  made  me 
do  it.  He  corrected  my  first  attempt ;  the  second  satis- 
fied him :  we  then  went  on  to  maple,  and  so  through  all 
the  woods  he  could  mimic.  He  then  returned  to  his 
customer,  and  I  hunted  in  another  part  of  the  town,  and 
before  nightfall  I  actually  gave  three  lessons  to  two  pro- 
fessors: it  is  amazing,  but  true,  that  I,  who  had  been 
learning  ten  minutes,  taught  men  who  had  been  all  their 
lives  at  it — in  the  country. 

One  was  so  pleased  with  his  tutor  that  he  .gave  me  a 
pint  of  beer  besides  my  fee.  I  thought  he  was  poking 
fun  when  he  first  offered  it  me. 

Beard  and  I  met  again  triumphant.  We  had  a  rous- 
ing supper  and  a  good  bed,  and  the  next  day  started  for 
Henley,  where  we  both  did  a  small  stroke  of  business, 
and  on  to  Reading  for  the  night. 

Our  goal  was  Bristol.  Beard  had  friends  there.  But 
r.s  we  zigzagged  for  the  sake  of  the  towns,  we  were  three 
weeks  walking  to  that  cityj  but  we  reached  it  at  last, 
having  disseminated  the  science  of  graining  in  many 
cities,  and  got  good  clothes  and  money  in  return. 

At  Bristol  we  parted.  He  found  regular  employment 
the  first  day,  and  I  visited  the  fiddle-shops  and  offered 
ray  services.  At  most  I  was  refused ;  at  one  or  two  I 
got  trifling  jobs ;  but  at  last  I  went  to  the  right  one. 
The  master  agreed  with  me  for  piece-work  on  a  large 
scale,  and  the  terms  were  such  that  by  working  quick 
and  very  steady  I  could  make  about  twenty-five  shillings 
a  week.  At  this  I  kept  two  years,  and  might  have  lon- 
ger, no  doubt — but  my  employer's  niece  came  to  live 
with  him. 

She  was  a  woman ;  and  my  theory  being  in  full  career 
at  this  date,  mutual  ardor  followed,  and  I  asked  her  hand 
of  her  uncle,  and  instead  of  that  he  gave  me  what  the 
Turkish  ladies  get  fof  the  same  offense — the  sack.  Oft* 
to  London  again,  and  the  money  I  had  saved  by  my  in- 


258  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

dustry  just  landed  me  in  the  Seven  Dials  and  sixpence 
over. 

I  went  to  Paley,  crestfallen  as  usual.  He  heard  my 
story,  complimented  me  on  my  energy,  industry,  and 
talent,  regretted  the  existence  of  woman,  and  inveighed 
against  her  character  and  results. 

We  went  that  evening  to  private  theatricals  in  Ber- 
wick Street,  and  there  I  fell  in  with  an  acquaintance  in 
the  fire- work  line.  On  hearing  my  case,  he  told  me  I  had 
just  fallen  from  the  skies  in  time ;  his  employer  wanted 
a  fresh  hand. 

The  very  next  day  behold  me  grinding,  and  sifting, 
and  ramming  powder  at  Somers  Town,  and  at  it  ten 
months. 

My  evenings,  when  I  was  not  undoing  my  own  work 
to  show  its  brilliancy,  were  often  spent  in  private  the- 
atricals. 

I  hear  a"  row  made  just  now  about  a  dramatic  school. 
"  We  have  no  dramatic  schools,"  is  the  cry.  Well,  in 
the  day  I  speak  of  there  were  several ;  why,  I  belonged 
to  two.  We  never  brought  to  light  an  actor,  but  we 
succeeded  so  far  as  to  ruin  more  than  one  lad  who  had 
brains  enough  to  make  a  tradesman,  till  we  heated  those 
brains  and  they  boiled  all  away. 

The  way  we  destroyed  youth  was  this :  of  course,  no- 
body would  pay  a  shilling  at  the  door  to  see  us  running 
wild  among  Shakspeare's  lines  like  pigs  broken  into  a 
garden,  so  the  expenses  fell  upon  the  actors,  and  they 
paid  according  to  the  value  of  the  part  each  played. 
Richard  the  Third  cost  a  puppy  two  pounds ;  Richmond, 
fifteen  shillings ;  and  so  on ;  so  that  with  us,  as  in  the 
big  world,  dignity  went  by  wealth,  not  merit.  I  re- 
member this  made  me  sore  at  the  time ;  still,  there  are 
two  sides  to  every  thing :  they  say  poverty  urges  men 
to  crime ;  mine  saved  me  from  it.  If  I  could  have  af- 
forded, I  would  have  murdered  one  or  two  characters 
that  have  lived  with  good  reputation  from  Qiieen  Bess 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  259 

to  Queen  Victoria;  but  as  I  couldn't  afford  it,  others 
that  could  did  it  for  me. 

Well,  in  return  for  his  cash,  Richard,  or  Hamlet,  or 
Othello  commanded  tickets  in  proportion ;  for  the  tickets 
were  only  gratuitous  to  the  spectators. 

Consequently,  at  night,  each  important  actor  played 
not  only  to  a  most  merciful  audience,  but  a  large  band 
of  devoted  friendly  spirits  in  it,  who  came,  not  to  judge 
him,  but  express  to  carry  him  through  triumphant — like 
an  election.  Now  when  a  vain,  ignorant  chap  hears  a 
lot  of  hands  clapping,  he  has  not  the  sense  to  say  to  him- 
self "  paid  for !"  No,  it  is  applause,  and  applause  stamps 
his  own  secret  opinion  of  himself.  He  was  off  his  bal- 
ance before,  and  now  he  tumbles  heel  over  tip  into  the 
notion  that  he  is  a  genius ;  throws  his  commercial  pros- 
pects after  the  two  pounds  that  went  in  Richard  or  Bev- 
erley,  and  crosses  Waterloo  Bridge  spouting, 

"A  fico  for  the  shop  and  poplins  base ! 
Counter,  avaunt !  I  on  his  southern  bank 
Will  fire  the  Thames." 

Noodle,  thus  singing,  goes  over  the  water.  But  they 
won't  have  him  at  the  Surrey  or  the  Vic.,  so  he  takes  to 
the  country ;  and,  while  his  money  lasts,  and  he  can  pay 
the  mismanager  of  a  small  theatre,  he  gets  leave  to  play 
with  Richard  and  Hamlet.  But  when  the  money  is  gone, 
and  he  wants  to  be  paid  for  Richard  &  Co.,  they  laugh 
at  him,  and  put  him  hi  his  right  place,  and  that  is  a  util- 
ity, and  perhaps  ends  a  "  super. ;"  when,  if  he  had  not 
been  a  coxcomb,  he  might  have  sold  ribbon  like  a  man 
to  his  dying  day. 

We  and  our  dramatic  schools  ruined  more  than  one  or 
two  of  this  sort  by  means  of  his  vanity  in  my  young  days. 

My  poverty  saved  me.  The  conceit  was  here  hi  vast 
abundance,  but  not  the  funds  to  intoxicate  myself  with 
such  choice  liquors  as  Hamlet  &  Co.  Nothing  above 
old  Gobbo  (five  shillings)  ever  fell  to  my  lot  and  by  my 
talent. 


260  JACK    OF   ALL   TKADES. 

When  I  had  made  and  let  off  fire-works  for  a  few 
months,  I  thought  I  could  make  more  as  a  rocket-master 
than  a  rocket-man.  I  had  saved  a  pound  or  two.  '  Most 
of  my  friends  dissuaded  me  from  the  attempt ;  but  Paley 
said,  "  Let  him  alone  now ;  don't  keep  him  down ;  he  is 
born  to  rise.  I'll  risk  a  pound  on  him."  So  by  dint  of 
several  small  loans,  I  got  the  materials  and  made  a  set 
of  fire-works  myself,  and  agreed  with  the  keeper  of  some 
tea-gardens  at  Hampstead  for  the  spot. 

At  the  appointed  time,  attended  by  a  trusty  band  of 
friends,  I  put  them  up ;  and,  when  I  had  taken  a  tolerable 
sum  at  the  door,  I  let  them  all  off. 

But  they  did  not  all  profit  by  the  permission.  Some 
went,  but  others,  whose  supposed  destination  was  the 
sky,  soared  about  as  high  as  a  house,  then  returned  and 
forgot  their  wild  nature,  and  performed  the  office  of  our 
household  fires  upon  the  clothes  of  my  visitors ;  and  some 
faithful  spirits,  like  old  domestics,  would  not  leave  their 
master  at  any  price — would  not  take  their  discharge. 
Then  there  was  a  row,  and  I  should  have  been  mauled, 
but  my  guards  rallied  round  me  and  brought  me  off 
with  whole  bones,  and  marched  back  to  London  with 
me,  quizzing  me  and  drinking  at  my  expense.  The  pub- 
lican refused  to  give  me  my  promised  fee,  and  my  loss 
by  ambition  was  twenty-eight  shillings  and  my  reputa- 
tion— if  you  could  call  that  a  loss. 

Was  not  I  quizzed  up  and  down  the  Seven  Dials! 
Paley  alone  contrived  to  stand  out  in  my  favor.  "  Non- 
sense !  a  first  attempt,"  said  he ;  "  they  mostly  fail. 
Don't  you  give  in  for  those  fools !  I'll  tell  you  a  story. 
There  was  a  chap  in  prison — I  forget  his  name.  He 
lived  in  the  old  times  a  few  hundred  years  ago.  I  can't 
justly  say  how  many.  He  had  failed — at  something  or 
other — I  don't  know  how  many  times,  and  there  he  was. 
Well,  Jack,  one  day  he  notices  a  spider  climbing  up  a 
thundering  great  slippery  stone  in  the  wall.  She  got  a 
little  way,  then  down  she  fell ;  up  again,  and  tries  it  on 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  261 

again ;  down  again.  Ah !  says  the  man,  you  will  never 
do  it.  But  the  spider  was  game.  She  got  six  falls,  but, 
by  George,  the  seventh  trial  she  got  up.  So  the  gentle- 
man says  'a  man  ought  to  have  as  much  heart  as  a 
spider :  I  won't  give  hi  till  the  seventh  trial.'  Bless  you, 
long  before  the  seventh  he  carried  all  before  him,  and 
got  to  be  King  of  England — or  something." 

"  King  of  England !"  said  I ;  "  that  was  a  move  up- 
ward out  of  the  stone  jug." 

"Well,"  said  Paley  the  hopeful,  "you  can't  be  King 
of  England,  but  you  may  be  the  fire-king — he !  he ! — if 
you  are  true  to  powder.  How  much  money  do  you  want 
to  try  again  ?" 

I  was  nettled  at  my  failure,  and,  fired  by  Paley  and 
his  spider,  I  scraped  together  a  few  pounds  once  more, 
and  advertised  a  display  of  fire-works  for  a  certain  Mon- 
day night. 

On  the  Sunday  afternoon  Paley  and  I  happened  to 
walk  on  the  Hampstead  Road,  and  near  the  Adam  and 
Eve  we  fell  in  with  an  announcement  of  fire-works.  On 
the  bill  appeared  hi  enormous  letters  the  following : 

"  No  CONNECTION  WITH  THE  DISGRACEFUL  EXHIBITION 
THAT  TOOK  PLACE  LAST  FRIDAY  WEEK  !  !" 

Paley  was  hi  a  towering  passion.  "  Look  here,  John," 
says  he ;  "  but  never  you  mind ;  it  won't  be  here  long, 
for  I'll  tear  it  down  in  about  half  a  moment." 

"  No,  you  must  not  do  that,"  said  I,  a  h'ttle  nervous. 

"  Why  not,  you  poor-spirited  muff?"  shouts  the  little 
fellow :  "  let  me  alone — let  me  get  at  it — what  are  you 
holding  me  for  ?" 

"No!  no!  no!    Well, then— " 

"Well, then,  what?" 

"  Well,  then,  it  is  mine." 

"  What  is  yours  ?" 

"  That  advertisement." 

"  How  can  it  be  yours,  when  it  insults  you  ?" 

"  Oh !  business  before  vanity." 


262  JACK   OF   ALL   TEADE8. 

"  Well,  I  am  blessed !  Here's  a  go.  Look  here,  now ;" 
and  he  began  to  split  his  sides  laughing ;  but  all  of  a 
sudden  he  turned  awful  grave :  "  You  will  rise,  my  lad ; 
this  is  genuine  talent ;  they  might  as  well  try  to  keep  a 
balloon  down."  In  short,  my  friend,  who  was  as  honest 
as  the  day  in  his  own  sayings  and  doings,  admired  this 
bit  of  rascality  in  me,  and  augured  the  happiest  results. 

That  district  of  London  which  is  called  the  Seven 
Dials  was  now  divided  into  two  great  parties ;  one  au- 
gured for  me  a  brilliant  success  next  day,  the  other  a 
dead  failure.  The  latter  party  numbered  many  names 
unknown  to  fame,  the  former  consisted  of  Paley.  I  was 
neuter,  distrusting,  not  my  merits,  but  what  I  called  my 
luck. 

On  Monday  afternoon  I  was  busy  putting  out  the  fire- 
works, nailing  them  to  their  posts,  etc.  Toward  even- 
ing it  began  to  rain  so  heavily  that  they  had  to  be  taken 
in,  and  the  whole  thing  given  up:  it  was  postponed  to 
Thursday. 

On  Thursday  night  we  had  a  good  assembly ;  the  sum 
taken  at  the  doors  exceeded  my  expectation.  I  had  my 
misgivings  on  account  of  the  rain  that  had  fallen  on  my 
kickshaws  Monday  evening,  so  I  began  with  those  arti- 
cles I  had  taken  in  first  out  of  the  rain.  They  went  off 
splendidly,  and  my  personal  friends  were  astounded ;  but 
soon  my  poverty  began  to  tell.  Instead  of  having  many 
hands  to  save  the  fire-works  from  wet,  I  had  been  alone, 
and  of  course  much  time  had  been  lost  in  getting  them 
under  cover.  We  began  now  to ,  get  among  the  damp 
lot,  and  science  was  lost  in  chance ;  some  would  and  some 
wouldn't,  and  the  people  began  to  goose  me. 

A  rocket  or  two  that  fizzled  themselves  out  without 
rising  a  foot  inflamed  their  angry  passions;  so  I  an- 
nounced two  fiery  pigeons. 

The  fiery  pigeon  is  a  pretty  fire-work  enough.  It  is  of 
the  nature  of  a  rocket,  but,  being  on  a  string,  it  travels 
backward  and  forward  between  two  termini,  to  which 


JACK    OF   ALL   TBADES.  263 

the  string  is  fixed.  When  there  are  two  strings  and 
two  pigeons,  the  fiery  wings  race  one  another  across  the 
ground,  and  charm  the  gazing  throng.  One  of  my  ter- 
mini was  a  tree  at  the  extremity  of  the  gardens.  Up 
this  tree  I  mounted  in  my  shirt  sleeves  with  my  birds. 
The  people  surrounded  the  tree,  and  were  dead  silent. 
I  could  see  their  final  verdict  and  my  fate  hung  on  these 
pigeons.  I  placed  them,  and  with  a  beating  heart  light- 
ed their  matches.  To  my  horror,  one  did  not  move.  I 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  explode  green  sticks.  The 
other  started  and  went  off  with  great  resolution  and  ac- 
companying cheers  toward  the  opposite  side.  But  mid- 
way it  suddenly  stopped,  and  the  cheers  with  it.  It  did 
not  come  to  an  end  all  at  once,  but  the  fire  oozed  gradu- 
ally out  of  it  like  water.  A  howl  of  derision  was  hurled 
up  into  the  tree  at  me ;  but,  worse  than  that,  looking 
down,  I  saw  in  the  moonlight  a  hundred  stern  faces, 
with  eyes  like  red-hot  emeralds,  in  which  I  read  my  fate. 
They  were  waiting  for  me  to  come  down,  like  terriers 
for  a  rat  in  a  trap,  and  I  felt  by  the  look  of  them  that 
they  would  kill  me,  or  near  it.  I  crept  along  a  bough, 
the  end  of  which  cleared  the  wall  and  overhung  the  road. 
I  determined  to  break  my  neck  sooner  than  fall  into  the 
hands  of  an  insulted  public.  An  impatient  orange  whiz- 
zed by  my  ear,  and  an  apple  knocked  my  hat  out  of  the 
premises.  I  crouched  and  clung;  luckily,  I  was  on  an 
ash-bough,  long,  tapering,  and  tough ;  it  bent  with  me 
like  a  rainbow.  A  stick  or  two  now  whizzed  past  my 
ear,  and  it  began  to  hail  fruit.  I  held  on  like  grim  death 
till  the  road  was  within  six  feet  of  me,  and  then  dropped 
and  ran  off  home,  like  a  dog  with  a  kettle  at  his  tail. 
Meantime  a  rush  was  made  to  the  gate  to  cut  me  off; 
but  it  was  too  late.  The  garden  meandered,  and  my 
executioners,  when  they  got  to  the  outside,  saw  nothing 
but  a  flitting  spectre — me  in  my  shirt  sleeves  making  for 
the  Seven  Dials. 

Mr.  and  Miss  Paley  were  seated  by  their  fire,  and,  as  I 


264  JACK    OP    AT.T.   TRADES. 

afterward  learned,  Paley  was  recommending  her  to  me 
for  a  husband,  and  explaining  to  her  at  some  length  why 
I  was  sure  to  rise  in  the  world,  when  a  figure  in  shirt 
sleeves,  begrimed  with  gunpowder,  and  no  hat,  burst 
into  the  room,  and  shrank  without  a  word  into  the 
corner  by  the  fire. 

Miss  Paley  looked  up,  and  then  began  to  look  down 
and  snigger.  Her  father  stared  at  me,  and  after  a  while 
I  could  see  him  set  his  teeth  and  nerve  his  obstinate  old 
heart  for  the  coming  struggle. 

"  Well,  how  did  it  happen  ?"  said  he,  at  last.  "  Where 
is  your  coat  ?" 

I  told  him  the  whole  story. 

Miss  Paley  had  her  hand  to  her  mouth  all  the  time, 
afraid  to  give  vent  to  the  feelings  proper  to  the  occasion 
because  of  her  father. 

"  Now  answer  me  one  question.  Have  you  got  their 
money  ?"  says  Paley. 

"  Yes,  I  have  got  their  money,  for  that  matter." 

"  Well,  then,  what  need  you  care  ?  You  are  all  right ; 
and  if  they  had  gone  off  they  would  have  been  ah*  over 
by  now,  just  the  same.  He  wants  his  supper,  Lucy. 
Give  us  something  hot,  to  make  us  forget  our  squibs 
and  crackers,  or  we  shall  die  of  a  broken  heart,  all  us 
poor  fainting  souls.  Such  a  calamity !  The  rain  wetted 
them  through — that  is  all ;  you  couldn't  fight  against  the 
elements,  could  you  ?  Lay  the  cloth,  girl." 

"  But,  Mr.  Paley,"  whined  I,  "  they  have  got  my  new 
coat,  and  you  may  be  sure  they  have  torn  it  limb  from 
jacket." 

"  Have  they  ?"  cried  he ;  "  well,  that  is  a  comfort,  any- 
way. Your  new  coat,  eh  ?  Lucy,  it  hung  on  the  boy's 
back  like  an  old  sack.  Do  you  see  this  bit  of  cloth  ?  I 
shall  make  you  a  Sunday  coat  with  this,  and  then  you'll 
sell.  Fetch  a  quart  to-night,  girl,  instead  of  a  pint :  the 
fire-king  is  going  to  do  us  the  honor.  Che-er  up ! !" 


JACK    OF    AM.   TItAPKs.  265 


CHAPTER  m. 

IT  was  now  time  that  Miss  Paley  should  suffer  the 
penalty  of  her  sex.  She  was  a  comely,  good-humored, 
and  sensible  girl.  We  used  often  to  walk  out  together 
on  Sundays,  and  very  friendly  we  were.  I  used  to  tell 
her  she  was  the  flower  of  her  sex,  and  she  used  to  laugh 
at  that.  One  Sunday  I  spoke  more  plainly,  and  laid  my 
heart,  my  thirteen  shillings,  the  fruit  of  my  last  imposture 
on  the  public,  and  my  various  arts,  at  her  feet,  out  walk- 
ing. 

A  proposal  of  this  sort,  if  I  may  trust  the  stories  I  read, 
produces  thrilling  effects.  If  agreeable,  the  ladies  either 
refuse  in  order  to  torment  themselves,  which  act  of  virtue 
justifies  them,  they  think,  in  tormenting  the  man  they 
love,  or  else  they  show  their  rapturous  assent  by  burst- 
ing out  crying,  or  by  fainting  away,  or  their  lips  turning 
cold,  and  other  signs  proper  to  a  disordered  stomach ;  if 
it  is  to  be  "  no,"  they  are  almost  as  much  cut  up  rbout 
it,  and  say  no  like  yes,  which  has  the  happy  result  of 
leaving  him  hope  and  prolonging  his  pain.  Miss  Paley 
did  quite  different.  She  blushed  a  little,  and  smiled 
archly  and  said,  "  Now,  John,  you  and  I  are  good  friends, 
and  I  like  you  very  much,  and  I  will  walk  with  you  and 
laugh  with  you  as  much  as  you  like ;  but  I  have  been 
engaged  these  two  years  to  Charles  Hook,  and  I  love 
him,  John." 

"  Do  you,  Lucy  ?" 

"  Yes,"  under  her  breath  a  bit. 

"  Oh !" 

"  So,  if  we  are  to  be  friends,  you  must  not  put  that 
question  to  me  again,  John.  What  do  you  say  ?  we  are 
to  be  friends,  are  we  not?"  and  she  put  out  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  Lucy." 

M 


266  JACK    OF   ALL   TKADES. 

"  And,  John,  you  need  not  go  for  to  tell  my  father ; 
what  is  the  use  vexing  him  ?  He  has  got  a  notion,  but 
it  will  pass  away  in  time." 

I  consented,  of  course,  and  Lucy  and  I  were  friends. 

Mr.  Paley  somehow  suspected  which  way  his  daugh- 
ter's heart  turned,  and  not  long  after  a  neighbor  told  me 
he  heard  him  quizzing  her  unmerciful  for  her  bad  judg- 
ment. As  for  harshness  or  tyranny,  that  was  not  under 
his  skin,  as  the  saying  is.  He  wound  up  with  telling  her 
that  John  was  a  man  safe  to  rise. 

"  I  hope  he  may,  father,  I  am  sure,"  says  Lucy. 

"  "Well,  and  can't  you  see  he  is  the  man  for  you  ?" 

"  No,  father,  I  can't  see  that — he !  he !" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I  DON'T  think  I  have  been  penniless  not  a  dozen  times 
in  my  life.  When  I  get  down  to  twopence  or  threepence, 
which  is  very  frequent  indeed,  something  is  apt  to  turn 
up  and  raise  me  to  silver  once  more,  and  there  I  stick. 
But  about  this  time  I  lay  out  of  work  a  long  time,  and 
was  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb.  In  this  condition,  a 
friend  of  mine  took  me  to  the  "  Harp,"  in  Little  Russell 
Street,  to  meet  Mr.  Webb,  the  manager  of  a  strolling 
company.  Mr.  Webb  was  beating  London  for  recruits 
to  complete  his  company  which  lay  at  Bishops  Stortford, 
but  which,  owing  to  desertions,  was  not  numerous  enough 
to  massacre  five-act  plays.  I  instantly  offered  to  go  as 
carpenter  and  scene-shifter.  To  this  he  demurred:  he 
was  provided  with  them  already ;  he  wanted  actors.  To 
this  I  objected,  not  that  I  cared  to  what  sort  of  work  I 
turned  my  hand,  but  in  these  companies  a  carpenter  is 
paid  for  his  day's  work  according  to  his  agreement,  but 
the  actors  are  remunerated  by  a  share  in  the  night's 
profits,  and  the  profits  are  often  written  in  the  following 
figures  £0  Os.  Oct. 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  267 

However,  Mr.  Webb  was  firm ;  he  had  no  carpenter's 
place  to  offer  me,  so  I  was  obliged  to  lower  my  preten- 
sions. I  agreed  then  to  be  an  actor.  I  was  cast  as 
Father  Philip,  in  the  "  Iron  Chest,"  next  evening,  my 
share  of  the  profits  to  be  one  eighth.  I  borrowed  a  shil- 
ling, and  my  friend  Johnstone  and  I  walked  all  the  way 
to  Bishops  Stortford.  We  played  the  "  Iron  Chest"  and 
divided  the  profits.  Hitherto  I  had  been  in  the  mechan- 
ical arts ;  this  was  my  first  step  .into  the  fine  ones.  Fa- 
ther Philip's  share  of  the  "  Chest"  was  2%d. 

Now  this  might  be  a  just  remuneration  for  the  per- 
formance ;  I  almost  think  it  was ;  but  it  left  the  walk, 
thirty  miles,  not  accounted  for. 

The  next  night  I  was  cast  in  "  Jerry  Sneak."  I  had 
no  objection  to  the  part,  only,  under  existing  circum- 
stances, the  place  to  play  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  road 
to  London,  not  the  boards  of  Bishops  Stortford ;  so  I 
sneaked  off  toward  the  Seven  Dials.  Johnstone,  though 
cast  for  the  hero,  was  of  Jerry's  mind,  and  sneaked  away 
along  with  him. 

We  had  made  but  twelve  miles  when  the  manager  and 
a  constable  came  up  with  us.  Those  were  peremptory 
days ;  they  offered  us  our  choice  of  the  fine  arts  again, 
or  prison.  After  a  natural  hesitation,  we  chose  the  arts, 
and  were  driven  back  to  them  like  sheep.  Night's  prof- 
its 5d.  In  the  morning  the  whole  company  dissolved 
away  like  a  snowball.  Johnstone  and  I  had  a  meagre 
breakfast,  and  walked  on  it  twenty-six  miles.  He  was  a 
stout  fellow — shone  in  brigands — he  encouraged  and 
helped  me  along ;  but  at  last  I  could  go  no  farther. 

My  slighter  frame  was  quite  worn  out  with  hunger  and 
fatigue.  "  Leave  me,"  I  said ;  "  perhaps  some  charitable 
hand  will  aid  me,  and  if  not,  why  then  I  shall  die ;  and  I 
don't  care  if  I  do,  for  I  have  lost  all  hope." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  the  fine  fellow.  "  I'll  carry  you 
home  on  my  back  sooner  than  leave  you.  Die  ?  that  is 
a  word  a  man  should  never  say.  Come !  courage !  only 
four  miles  more." 


268  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

No.  I  could  not  move  from  the  spot.  I  was  what  I 
believe  seldom  really  happens  to  any  man,  dead  beat 
body  and  soul. 

I  sank  down  on  a  heap  of  stones.  Johnstone  sat  down 
beside  me. 

The  sun  was  just  setting.  It  was  a  bad  look-out — 
starving  people  to  lie  out  on  stones  all  night.  A  man 
can  stand  cold,  and  he  can  fight  with  hunger ;  but  put 
those  two  together,  and  life  is  soon  exhausted. 

At  last  a  rumble  was  heard,  and  presently  an  empty 
coal-wagon  came  up.  A  coal-heaver  sat  on  the  shaft, 
and  another  walked  by  the  side.  Johnstone  went  to 
meet  them ;  they  stopped ;  I  saw  him  pointing  to'  me, 
and  talking  earnestly. 

The  men  came  up  to  me ;  they  took  hold  of  me,  and 
shot  me  into  the  cart  like  a  hundred  weight  of  coal. 
"  Why,  he  is  starving  with  cold,"  said  one  of  them,  and 
he  flung  half  a  dozen  empty  sacks  over  me,  and  on  we 
went.  At  the  first  public  the  wagon  stopped,  and  soon 
one  of  my  new  friends,  with  a  cheerful  voice,  brought  a 
pewter  flagon  of  porter  to  me.  I  sipped  it.  "  Don't  be 
afraid  of  it,"  cried  he ;  "  down  with  it ;  it  is  meat  and 
drink,  that  is."  And,  indeed,  so  I  found  it.  It  was  a 
heavenly  solid  liquid  to  me ;  it  was  "  stout"  by  name  and 
"  stout"  by  nature. 

These  good  fellows,  whom  men  do  right  to  call  black 
diamonds,  carried  me  safe  into  the  Strand,  and  thence, 
being  now  quite  my  own  man  again,  I  reached  the  Seven 
Dials.  Paley  was  in  bed.  He  came  down  directly  in 
his  night-gown,  and  lighted  a  fire,  and  pulled  a  piece  of 
cold  beef  out  of  the  cupboard,  and  cheered  me  as  usual, 
but  in  a  fatherly  way  this  time ;  and  of  course,  at  my 
age,  I  was  soon  all  right  again,  and  going  to  take  the 
world  by  storm  to-morrow  morning.  He  left  me  for  a 
while  and  went  up  stairs.  Presently  he  came  down 
again. 

"  Your  bed  is  ready,  John." 


JACK  OF    ALL   TRADES.  269 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  you  have  not  three  rooms." 

"  Lucy  is  on  a  visit,"  said  he ;  then  he  paused.  "  Stop 
a  bit ;  I'll  warm  your  bed." 

He  took  me  up  stairs  to  my  old  room  and  warmed  the 
bed.  I,  like  a  thoughtless  young  fool,  rolled  into  it,  half 
gone  with  sleep,  and  never  woke  till  ten  next  morning. 

I  don't  know  what  the  reader  will  think  of  me  when  I 
tell  him  that  the  old  man  had  turned  Lucy  out  of  her 
room  into  his  own,  and  sat  all  night  by  the  fire  that  I 
might  lie  soft  after  my  troubles.  Ah !  he  was  a  bit  of 
steel.  And  have  you  left  me,  and  can  I  share  no  more 
sorrow  or  joy  with  you  in  this  world?  Eh!  dear,  it 
makes  me  misty  to  think  of  the  old  man — after  all  these 
years. 


CHAPTER  V. 

I  USED  often  to  repair  and  doctor  a  violin  for  a  gent 
whom  I  shall  call  Chaplin.  He  played  in  the  orchestra 
of  the  Adelphi  Theatre.  Mr.  Chaplin  was  not  only  a 
customer,  but  a  friend.  He  saw  how  badly  off  I  was, 
and  had  a  great  desire  to  serve  me.  Now  it  so  happen- 
ed that  Mr.  Yates,  the  manager,  was  going  to  give  an  en- 
tertainment he  called  his  "  At  Homes,"  and  this  took  but 
a  small  orchestra,  of  which  Mr.  Chaplin  was  to  be  the 
leader;  so  he  was  allowed  to  engage  the  other  instru- 
ments, and  he  actually  proposed  to  me  to  be  a  second 
violin. 

I  stared  at  him.     "  How  can  I  do  that  ?" 

"  "Why,  I  often  hear  you  try  a  violin." 

"  Yes,  and  I  always  play  the  same  notes ;  perhaps  you 
have  observed  that  too  ?" 

"  I  notice  it  is  always  a  slow  movement— eh  ?  Never 
mind,  this  is  the  only  thing  I  can  think  of  to  serve  you ; 
you  must  strum  out  something ;  it  will  be  a  good  thing 
for  you,  you  know." 


270  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  Mr.  Yates  will  promise  to  sing 
nothing  faster  than  '  Je-ru-sa-lem,  my  hap-py  home,'  I'll 
accompany  him." 

No,  he  would  not  be  laughed  out  of  it ;  he  was  determ- 
ined to  put  money  in  my  pocket,  and  would  take  no  de- 
nial. "Next  Monday  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
meet  me  at  the  theatre  at  six  o'clock  with  your  fiddle. 
Play  how  you  like,  play  inaudible  for  what  I  care  ;  but 
play  and  draw  your  weekly  salary  you  must  and  shall." 

"  Play  inaudible" — these  words  sunk  to  the  very  bot- 
tom of  me — "  play  inaudible." 

I  fell  into  a  brown  study:  it  lasted  three  days  and 
three  nights ;  finally,  to  my  good  patron's  great  content, 
I  consented  to  come  up  to  the  scratch,  and  Monday  night 
I  had  the  hardihood  to  present  myself  in  the  music-room 
of  the  Adelphi.  My  violin  was  a  ringing  one.  I  tuned 
up  the  loudest  of  them  all,  and  Mr.  Chaplin's  eye  rested 
on  me  with  an  approving  glance. 

Time  was  called.  We  played  an  overture,  and  accom- 
panied Mr.  Yates  in  his  recitatives  and  songs,  and  per- 
formed pieces  and  airs  between  the  acts,  etc.  The  lead- 
er's eye  often  fell  on  me,  and  when  it  did,  he  saw  the 
most  conscientious  workman  of  the  crew  plowing  every 
note  with  singular  care  and  diligence. 

In  this  same  little  orchestra  was  James  Bates,  another 
favorite  of  Mr.  Chaplin,  and  an  experienced  fiddler. 

This  young  man  was  a  great  chum  of  mine.  He  was 
a  fine,  honest  young  fellow,  but  of  rather  a  satanine  tem- 
per. He  was  not  movable  to  mirth  at  any  price.  He 
would  play  without  a  smile  to  a  new  pantomime — stuck 
there  all  night,  like  Solomon  cut  in  black  marble  with  a 
white  choker,  as  solemn  as  a  tomb,  with  hundreds  laugh- 
ing all  around. 

Once  or  twice  while  we  were  at  work  I  saw  Mr.  Chap- 
lin look  at  Bates,  knowing  we  two  were  chums,  and  when- 
ever he  did  it  seems  the  young  one  bit  his  lips  and  turn- 
ed as  red  as  a  beet-root.  After  the  lights  were  out  Mr. 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  271 

Chaplin  congratulated  me  before  Bates.  "There,  you 
see,  it  is  not  so  very  hard ;  why,  hang  me  if  you  did  not 
saw  away  as  well  as  the  best ! ! !"  At  these  words  Bates 
gave  a  sort  of  yell  and  ran  home.  Mr.  Chaplin  looked 
after  him  with  surprise.  "  There's  some  devil's  delight 
up  between  you  two,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  find  it  out." 

Next  night  in  the  tuning-room  my  fiddle  was  so  resin- 
ant  it  attracted  attention,  and  one  or  two  asked  leave  to 
try  it.  "  Why  not  ?"  said  I. 

During  work  Mr.  Chaplin  had  one  eye  on  me  and  one 
on  Bates,  and  caught  the  perspiration  running  down  my 
face,  and  him  simpering  for  the  first  time  in  the  history 
of  the  Adelphi. 

"  What  has  come  over  Jem  Bates  ?"  said  Mr.  Chaplin 
to  me ;  "  the  lad  is  all  changed.  You  have  put  some  of 
your  late  gunpowder  into  him;  there  is  something  up 
between  you  two."  After  the  play  he  got  us  together, 
and  he  looked  Bates  in  the  face,  and  just  said  to  him 
"Eh?" 

At  this  wholesale  interrogatory  Bates  laid  hold  of  him- 
self tight.  "  No,  Mr.  Chaplin,  sir,  I  can't ;  it  will  kill  me 
when  it  does  come  out  of  me." 

"  When  what  comes  out  ?  You  young  rascals,  if  you 
don't  both  of  you  tell  me,  I'll  break  my  fiddle  over  Bates, 
and  Jack  shall  mend  it  free  of  expense  gratis  for  noth- 
ing, that  is  how  I'll  serve  mutineers ;  come,  out  with  it." 

"  Tell  him,  John,"  said  Bates,  demurely. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  tell  him  yourself,  if  you  think  it  will 
gratify  him."  I  had  my  doubts. 

"  Well,"  said  Bates,  "  it  is  ungrateful  to  keep  you  out 
of  it,  sir,  so — he !  he ! — I'll  tell  you,  sir — this  second  vio- 
lin has  two  bows  in  his  violin-case." 

"  Well,  stupid,  what  is  commoner  than  that  for  a  fid- 
dler?" 

"But  this  is  not  a  fiddler,"  squeaked  Bates;  "he's 
only  a  bower.  Oh !  oh !  oh !" 

"Only  a  bower?" 


272  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

"No!  Oh!  Oh!  I  shall  die;  it  will  kill  me."  I 
gave  a  sort  of  ghastly  grin  myself. 

"  You  unconscionable  scoundrels !"  shouted  Mr.  Chap- 
mi  ;  "  there,  look  at  this  Bates ;  he  is  at  it  again ;  a  fel- 
low that  the  very  clown  could  never  raise  a  laugh  out  of, 
and  now  I  see  him  all  night  smirking,  and  grinning,  and 
looking  down  like  a  jackdaw  that  has  got  his  claw  on  a 
thimble.  If  you  don't  speak  out,  I'll  knock  your  two 
tormenting  skulls  together  till  they  roll  off  down  the  gut- 
ter side  by  side,  chuckling  and  giggling  all  day  and  all 
night."  At  this  direful  mysterious  threat  Bates  composed 
himself.  "  The  power  is  all  out  of  my  body,  sir,  so  now 
I  can  tell  you." 

He  then  in  faint  tones  gave  this  explanation,  which  my 
guilty  looks  confirmed.  "  One  of  his  bows  is  resined, 
sir — that  one  is  the  tuner.  I  don't  know  whether  you 
have  observed,  but  he  tunes  rather  louder  than  any  two 
of  us.  Oh  dear,  it  is  coming  again." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  now.     Yes,  I  have  noticed  that." 

"The  other  bow,  Mr.  Chaplin,  sir,  the  other  bow  is 
soaped — well  soaped,  sir,  for  orchestral  use.  Ugh !  ugh !" 

"  Oh,  the  varmint !" 

Bates  continued.  "  You  take  a  look  at  him — you  see 
him  fingering  and  bowing  like  mad — but  as  for  sound, 
you  know  what  a  greasy  bow  is  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  don't  wonder  at  your  laughing — 
ha !  ha !  ha !  Oh,  the  thief — when  I  think  of  his  diligent 
face,  and  him  shaking  his  right  wrist  like  Viotti." 

"  Mind  your  pockets,  though ;  he  knows  too  much." 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  speak.  "  I  am  glad  you  like 
the  idea,  sir,"  said  I,  "  for  it  comes  from  you." 

"  How  can  you  say  that  ?" 

"  What  did  you  tell  me  to  do  ?" 

"  I  didn't  tell  you  to  do  that.  I  don't  remember  what 
I  told  him,  Bates — not  to  the  letter." 

"  Told  me  to  play  inaudible ! ! !" 

"  Well,  I  never,"  said  Mr.  Chaplin. 


JACK    OP   ALL   TRADES.  273 

"  Those  were  your  words,  sir ;  they  did  not  fall  to  the 
ground,  you  see." 

My  position  in  this  orchestra,  and  the  situations  that 
arose  out  of  it,  were  meat  and  drink  to  my  two  friends. 
With  the  gentry,  whose  lives  are  a  succession  of  amuse- 
ments, a  joke  soon  wears  out,  no  doubt ;  but  we  poor  fel- 
lows can't  let  one  go  cheap.  How  do  we  know  how 
long  it  may  be  before  Heaven  sends  us  another?  A 
joke  falling  among  us  is  like  a  rat  in  a  kennel  of  terriers. 

At  intricate  passages  the  first  violin  used  to  look  at 
the  tenor,  and  then  at  me,  and  wink,  and  they  both  swell- 
ed with  innocent  enjoyment,  till  at  last  unknown  powers 
of  gayety  budded  in  Bates.  With  quizzing  his  friend  he 
learned  to  take  a  jest,  so  much  so  that  one  night  Mr. 
Yates  being  funnier  than  usual  if  possible,  a  single  horse- 
laugh suddenly  exploded  among  the  fiddles.  This  was 
Bates  gone  off  all  in  a  moment  after  his  trigger  being 
pulled  so  many  years  to  no  purpose.  Mr.  Yates  looked 
down  with  gratified  surprise. 

"  Halloo !  Brains  got  in  the  orchestra ;  after  that,  any 
thing !" 

But  do  you  think  it  was  fun  to  me  all  this  ?  I  declare 
I  suffered  the  torture  of  the — you  know  what.  I  never 
felt  safe  a  moment.  I  had  placed  myself  next  to  an  old 
fiddler  who  was  deaf,  but  he  somehow  smelt  at  tunes 
that  I  was  shirking,  and  then  he  used  to  cry,  "  Pull  out, 
pull  out ;  you  don't  pull  out." 

"  How  can  you  say  so  ?"  I  used  to  reply,  and  then  saw 
away  like  mad;  when,  so  connected  are  the  senses  of - 
sight  and  hearing  apparently,  the  old  fellow  used  to  smile 
and  be  at  peace.  He  saw  me  pull,  and  so  he  heard  me 
pull  out.  Then  sometimes  friends  of  the  other  perform* 
ers  would  be  in  the  orchestra,  and  peep  over  me,  and  say 
civil  things,  and  I  wish  them  farther,  civilities  and  all. 
But  it  is  a  fact  that  for  two  months  I  gesticulated  in  that 
orchestra  without  a  soul  finding  out  that  I  was  not  suit- 
ing the  note  to  the  action. 

M2 


274  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

At  last  we  broke  up,  to  my  great  relief,  but  I  did  not 
leave  the  theatre.  Mr.  "Widger,  Mr.  Yates's  dresser,  got 
me  a  place  behind  the  scenes  at  nine  shillings  per  week. 

I  used  to  dress  Mr.  Reeve,  and  run  for  his  brandies 
and  waters,  which  kept  me  on  the  trot,  and  do  odd  jobs. 

But  I  was  now  to  make  the  acquaintance  that  colored 
all  my  life,  or  the  cream  of  it.  My  time  was  come  to 
move  in  a  wider  circle  of  men  and  things,  and  really  to 
do  what  so  many  fancy  they  have  done — to  see  the  world. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1828,  Mr.  Yates,  theatrical  man- 
ager, found  his  nightly  receipts  fall  below  his  nightly  ex- 
penses. In  this  situation,  a  manager  falls  upon  one  of 
two  things — a  spectacle  or  a  star.  Mr.  Yates  preferred 
the  latter,  and  went  over  to  Paris  and  engaged  Mademoi- 
selle Djek. 

MademoiseUe  Djek  was  an  elephant  of  great  size  and 
unparalleled  sagacity.  She  had  been  for  some  time  per- 
forming in  a  play  at  Franconi's,  and  created  a  great  sensa- 
tion in  Paris. 

Of  her  previous  history  little  is  known.  But  she  was 
first  landed  from  the  East  in  England,  and  was  shown 
about  merely  as  an  elephant  by  her  proprietor,  an  Italian 
called  Polito.  The  Frenchmen  first  found  out  her  talent. 
Her  present  owner  was  a  M.  Huguet,  and  with  him  Mr. 
Yates  treated.  She  joined  the  Adelphi  company  at  a 
salary  of  £40  a  week  and  her  grub. 

There  was  great  expectation  in  the  theatre  for  some 
days.  The  play  in  which  she  was  to  perform, "  The 
Elephant  of  the  King  of  Siam,"  was  cast  and  rehearsed 
several  times ;  a  wooden  house  was  built  for  her  at  the 
back  of  the  stage,  and  one  fine  afternoon,  sure  enough, 
she  arrived  with  all  her  tram,  one  or  two  of  each  nation, 
viz.,  her  owner,  M.  Huguet  (French)  ;  her  principal  keep- 
er, Tom  Elliot  (English);  her  subordinates  —  Bernard, 
(French),  and  an  Italian  nicknamed  Pippin.  She  arrived 
at  the  stage  door  in  Maiden  Lane,  and  soon  after  the 
messenger  was  sent  to  Mr.  Yates's  house. 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  275 

"  Elephant's  come,  sir." 

"  Well,  let  them  put  her  in  the  place  built  for  her,  and 
I'll  come  and  see  her." 

"  They  can't  do  that,  sir." 

"Why  not?" 

"  La !  bless  you,  sir,  she  might  get  her  foot  into  the 
theatre,  but  how  is  her  body  to  conje  through  the  stage 
door  ?  Why,  she  is  almost  as  big  as  the  house." 

Down  comes  Mr.  Yates,  and  there  was  the  elephant 
standing  all  across  Maiden  Lane — all  traffic  interrupted 
except  what  could  pass  under  her  belly — and  such  a 
crowd — my  eye ! 

Mr.  Yates  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  took  a  quiet 
look  at  the  state  of  affairs. 

"  You  must  make  a  hole  in  the  wall,"  said  he. 

Pickaxes  went  to  work,  and  made  a  hole,  or  rather  a 
frightful  chasm  in  the  theatre,  and  when  it  looked  about 
two  thirds  her  size  Elliot  said  "  Stop !"  He  then  gave 
her  a  sharp  order,  and  the  first  specimen  we  saw  of  her 
cleverness  was  her  doubling  herself  together  and  creep- 
ing in  through  that  hole,  bending  her  fore  knees,  and 
afterward  rising  and  dragging  her  hind  legs  horizontally, 
and  she  disappeared  like  an  enormous  mole  burro  wing 
into  the  theatre. 

Mademoiselle  Djek's  bills  were  posted  all  over  the 
town,  and  every  thing  done  to  make  her  take,  and  on  the 
following  Tuesday  the  theatre  was  pretty  well  filled  by 
the  public ;  the  manager  also  took  care  to  have  a  strong 
party  in  the  pit.  In  short,  she  was  nursed  as  other  stars 
are  upon  their  debut. 

Night  came ;  all  was  anxiety  behind  the  lights  and 
expectation  in  front. 

The  green  curtain  drew  up,  and  Mr.  Yates  walked  on 
hi  black  dress-coat  and  white  kid  gloves,  like  a  private 
gentleman  just  landed  out  of  a  bandbox  at  the  Queen's 
ball.  He  was  the  boy  to  talk  to  the  public :  soft  sawder 
— dignified  reproach — friendly  intercourse — he  had  them 


276  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

all  at  his  fingers'  ends.  This  time  it  was  the  easy  tone 
of  refined  conversation  upon  the  intelligent  creature  he 
was  privileged  to  introduce  to  them.  I  remember  his 
discourse  as  well  as  if  it  was  yesterday. 

"  The  elephant,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  "  is  a  marvel  of  Na- 
ture. We  are  now  to  have  the  pleasure  of  showing  her 
to  you  as  taking  her  place  in  art."  Then  he  praised  the 
wisdom  and  beneficence  of  creation.  "  Among  the  small 
animals,  such  as  cats  and  men,  there  is  to  be  found  such 
a  thing  as  spite ;  treachery  ditto,  and  love  of  mischief, 
and  even  cruelty  at  odd  times ;  but  here  is  a  creature 
with  the  power  to  pull  down  our  houses  about  our  ears 
like  Samson,  but  a  heart  that  will  not  let  her  hurt  a  fly. 
Properly  to  appreciate  her  moral  character,  consider  what 
a  thing  power  is ;  see  how  it  tries  us — how  often  in  his- 
tory it  has  turned  men  to  demons.  The  elephant,"  add- 
ed he,  "  is  the  friend  of  man  by  choice,  not  by  necessity 
or  instinct ;  it  is  born  as  wild  as  a  lion  or  buffalo,  but, 
the  moment  an  opportunity  arrives,  its  kindred  intelli- 
gence allies  it  to  man,  its  only  superior  or  equal  in  rea- 
soning power.  We  are  about,"  said  Mr.  Yates,  "  to  pre- 
sent a  play  in  which  an  elephant  will  act  a  part,  and  yet 
act  but  herself,  for  the  intelligence  and  affectionate  dis- 
position she  will  display  on  these  boards  as  an  actress 
are  merely  her  own  private  and  domestic  qualities.  Not 
every  one  of  us  actors,  gentlemen,  can  say  as  much." 

Then  there  was  a  laugh,  in  which  Mr.  Yates  joined. 
In  short,  Mr.  Yates,  who  could  play  upon  the  public  ear 
better  than  some  fiddles  (I  name  no  names),  made  his 
debutante  popular  before  ever  she  stepped  upon  the 
scene.  He  then  bowed  with  intense  gratitude  to  the 
audience  for  the  attention  they  had  honored  him  with, 
retired  to  the  prompter's  side,  and,  as  he  reached  it,  the 
act  drop  flew  up  and  the  play  began.  It  commenced  on 
two  legs ;  the  elephant  did  not  come  on  until  the  second 
scene  of  the  act. 

The  drama  was  a  good  specimen  of  its  kind.     It  was 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  277 

a  story  of  some  interest,  and  length,  and  variety,  and  the 
writer  had  been  sharp  enough  not  to  make  the  elephant 
too  common  in  it.  She  came  on  only  three  or  four  times, 
and  always  at  a  nick  of  time,  and  to  do  good  business — 
as  theatricals  say,  i.  e,,  for  some  important  purpose  in  the 
story. 

A  king  of  Siam  had  lately  died,  and  the  elephant  was 
seen  taking  her  part  in  the  funeral  obsequies.  She  de- 
posited his  sceptre,  etc.,  in  the  tomb  of  his  fathers,  and 
was  seen  no  more  in  that  act.  The  rightful  heir  to  this 
throne  was  a  young  prince,  to  whom  the  elephant  be- 
longed. A  usurper  opposed  him,  and  a  battle  took  place ; 
the  rightful  heir  was  worsted  and  taken  prisoner ;  the 
usurper  condemned  him  to  be  thrown  into  the  sea.  In 
the  next  act,  this  sentence  was  being  executed :  four  men 
were  discovered  passing  through  a  wood  carrying  no 
end  of  a  box.  Suddenly  a  terrific  roar  was  heard ;  the 
men  put  down  the  box  rather  more  carefully  than  they 
would  in  real  life,  and  fled,  and  the  elephant  walked  on 
to  the  scene  alone  like  any  other  actress.  She  smelt 
about  the  box,  and  presently  tore  it  open  with  her  pro- 
boscis, and  there  was  her  master,  the  rightful  heir,  but  in 
a  sad  exhausted  state.  When  the  good  soul  sees  this, 
what  does  she  do  but  walk  to  the  other  side,  and  tear 
down  the  bough  of  a  fruit-tree  and  hand  it  to  the  sufferer. 
He  sucked  it,  and  it  had  the  effect  of  stout  on  him :  it 
made  a  man  of  him,  and  they  marched  away  together, 
the  elephant  trumpeting  to  show  her  satisfaction. 

In  the  next  act  the  rightful  heir's  friends  were  dis- 
covered behind  the  bars  of  a  prison  at  a  height  from  the 
ground.  The  order  for  their  execution  arrived,  and  they 
were  down  upon  their  luck  terribly.  In  marched  the 
elephant,  tore  out  the  iron  bars,  and  squeezed  herself 
against  the  wall,  half  squatting  in  the  shape  of  a  triangle ; 
so  then  the  prisoners  glided  down  her  to  the  ground 
slantendicular  one  after  another. 

When  the  civil  war  had  lasted  long  enough  to  sicken 


278  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

both  sides,  and  enough  widows  and  orphans  had  been 
made,  the  Siamese  began  to  ask  themselves,  But  what  is 
it  all  about  ?  The  next  thing  was,  they  said,  "  What 
asses  we  have  been !  Was  there  no  other  way  of  decid- 
ing between  two  men  but  bleeding  the  whole  tribe?" 
Then  they  reflected  and  said,  We  are  asses,  that  is  clear ; 
but  we  hear  there  is  one  animal  in  the  nation  that  is  not 
an  ass ;  why,  of  course,  then  she  is  the  one  to  decide  our 
dispute.  Accordingly,  a  grand  assembly  was  held,  the 
rival  claimants  were  compelled  to  attend,  and  the  ele- 
phant was  led  in.  Then  the  high-priest,  or  some  such 
article,  having  first  implored  Heaven  to  speak  through 
the  quadruped,  bade  her  decide  according  to  justice.  No 
sooner  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth  than  the  ele- 
phant stretched  out  her  proboscis,  seized  a  little  crown 
that  glittered  on  the  usurper's  head,  and,  waving  it  grace- 
fully in  the  air,  deposited  it  gently  and  carefully  on  the 
brows  of  the  rightful  heir.  So  then  there  was  a  rush 
made  on  the  wrongful  heir.  He  was  taken  out  guarded, 
and  warned  off  the  premises ;  the  rightful  heir  mounted 
the  throne,  and  grinned  and  bowed  all  round — the  ele- 
phant trumpeted — Siam  hurraed — Djek's  party  in  the 
house  echoed  the  sound,  and  down  came  the  curtain  in 
thunders  of  applause.  Though  the  curtain  was  down, 
the  applause  continued  most  vehemently,  and  after  a 
while  a  cry  arose  at  the  back  of  the  pit,  "  Elephant !  Ele- 
phant !"  That  part  of  the  audience  that  had  paid  at  the 
door  laughed  at  this,  but  their  laughter  turned  to  curios- 
ity when,  in  answer  to  the  cry,  the  curtain  was  raised, 
and  the  stage  discovered  empty.  Curiosity  in  turn  gave 
way  to  surprise,  for  the  elephant  walked  on  from  the 
third  grooves  alone,  and  came  slap  down  to  the  float. 
At  this,  the  astonished  public  literally  roared  at  her. 
But  how  can  I  describe  the  effect,  the  amazement,  when, 
in  return  for  the  compliment,  the  debutante  slowly  bent 
her  knees  and  courtesied  twice  to  the  British  public,  and 
then  retired  backward  as  the  curtain  once  more  fell? 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  279 

People  looked  at  one  another,  and  seemed  to  need  to 
read  in  their  neighbor's  eyes  whether  such  a  thing  was 
real ;  and  then  followed  that  buzz  which  tells  the  know- 
ing ones  behind  the  curtain  that  the  nail  has  gone  home ; 
that  the  theatre  will  be  crammed  to  the  ceiling  to-morrow 
night,  and  perhaps  for  eighty  nights  after. 

Mr.  Yates  fed  Mademoiselle  Djek  with  his  own  hand 
that  night,  crying,  "  Oh  you  duck !" 

The  fortunes  of  the  Adelphi  rose  from  that  hour — full 
houses  without  intermission. 

Mr.  Yates  shortened  his  introductory  address,  and 
used  to  make  it  a  brief,  neat,  and,  I  think,  elegant  eulogy 
of  her  gentleness  and  affectionate  disposition ;  her  talent 
"  the  public  are  here  to  judge  for  themselves,"  said  Mr. 
Yates,  and  exit  P.  S. 

A  theatre  is  a  little  world,  and  Djek  soon  became  the 
hero  of  ours.  Every  body  must  have  a  passing  peep  at 
the  star  that  was  keeping  the  theatre  open  all  summer, 
and  providing  bread  for  a  score  or  two  of  families  connect- 
ed with  it.  Of  course,  a  mind  like  mine  was  not  among 
the  least  inquisitive.  But  her  head-keeper,  Tom  Elliot,  a 
surly  fellow,  repulsed  our  attempts  to  scrape  acquaint- 
ance. "Mind  your  business,  and  I'll  mind  mine,"  was 
his  chant.  He  seemed  to  be  wonderfully  jealous  of  her. 
He  could  not  forbid  Mr.  Yates  to  visit  her,  as  he  did  us, 
but  he  always  insisted  on  being  one  of  the  party  even 
then.  He  puzzled  us;  but  the  strongest  impression  he 
gave  us  was  that  he  was  jealous  of  her — afraid  that  she 
would  get  as  fond  of  some  others  as  of  him,  and  so 
another  man  might  be  able  to  work  her,  and  his  own 
nose  lose  a  joint,  as  the  saying  is.  Later  on  we  learned 
to  put  a  different  interpretation  on  his  conduct.  Pippin 
the  Italian,  and  Bernard  the  Frenchman,  used  to  serve 
her  with  straw  and  water,  etc.,  but  it  was  quite  a  different 
thing  from  Elliot.  They  were  like  a  fine  lady's  grooms 
and  running  footmen,  but  Elliot  was  her  body-servant, 
groom  of  the  bed-chamber,  or  what  not.  He  used  always 


280  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

to  sleep  in  the  straw  close  to  her.  Sometimes,  when  he 
was  drunk,  he  would  roll  in  between  her  legs ;  and  if  she 
had  not  been  more  careful  of  him  than  any  other  animal 
ever  was  (especially  himself),  she  must  have  crushed  him 
to  death  three  nights  in  the  week.  Next  to  Elliot,  but  a 
long  way  below  him,  M.  Huguet  seemed  her  favorite. 
He  used  to  come  into  her  box,  and  caress  her,  and  feed 
her,  and  make  much  of  her ;  but  she  never  went  on  the 
stage  without  Elliot  in  sight ;  and,  in  point  of  fact,  all  she 
did  upon  our  stage  was  done  at  a  word  of  command 
given  then  and  there  at  the  side  by  this  man  and  no 
other — going  down  to  the  float,  courtesying,  and  all. 

Being  mightily  curious  to  know  how  he  had  gamed 
such  influence  with  her,  I  made  several  attempts  to  sound 
him,  but,  drunk  or  sober,  he  was  equally  unfathomable 
on  this  point. 

I  then  endeavored  to  slake  my  curiosity  at  No.  2.  I 
made  bold  to  ask  M.  Huguet  how  he  had  won  her  affec- 
tions. The  Frenchman  was  as  communicative  as  the 
native  was  reserved.  He  broke  plenty  of  English  over 
me.  It  came  to  this,  that  the  strongest  feeling  of  an 
elephant  was  gratitude,  and  that  he  had  worked  on  this 
for  years ;  was  always  kind  to  her,  and  seldom  approach- 
ed her  without  giving  her  lumps  of  sugar — carried  a 
pocketful  on  purpose.  This  tallied  with  what  I  -had 
heard  and  read  of  an  elephant ;  still  the  problem  remain- 
ed, Why  is  she  fonder  still  of  this  Tom  Elliot,  whose 
manner  is  not  ingratiating,  and  who  never  speaks  to  her 
but  in  a  harsh,  severe  voice. 

She  stood  my  friend,  any  way.  A  good  many  new 
supers  were  engaged  to  play  with  her,  and  I  was  set 
over  these,  looked  out  their  dresses,  and  went  on  with 
them  and*  her  as  a  slave :  nine  shillings  a  week  for  this 
was  added  to  my  other  nine  which  I  drew  for  dressing 
an  actor  or  two  of  the  higher  class. 

The  more  I  was  about  her  the  more  I  felt  that  we  were 
not  at  the  bottom  of  this  quadruped,  nor  even  of  her  bi- 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  281 

*peds.    There  were  gestures,  and  glances,  and  shrugs  al- 
ways passing  to  and  fro  among  them. 

One  day,  at  the  rehearsal  of  a  farce,  there  was  no  Mr. 
Yates.  Somebody  inquired  loudly  for  him. 

"  Hush !"  says  another ;  "  haven't  you  heard  ?" 

"  No." 

"  You  mustn't  talk  of  it  out  of  doors." 

"No!" 

"  Half  killed  by  the  elephant  this  morning." 

It  seems  he  was  feeding  and  coaxing  her,  as  he  had 
often  done  before,  when  all  in  a  moment  she  laid  hold  of 
him  with  her  trunk  and  gave  him  a  squeeze.  He  lay  in 
bed  six  weeks  with  it,  and  there  was  nobody  to  deliver 
her  eulogy  at  night.  Elliot  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
stage  when  the  accident  happened.  He  heard  Mr.  Yates 
cry  out,  and  ran  in,  and  the  elephant  let  Mr.  Yates  go 
the  moment  she  saw  him. 

We  questioned  Elliot.  We  might  as  well  have  cross- 
examined  the  Monument.  Then  I  inquired  of  M.  Huguet 
what  this  meant.  That  gentleman  explained  to  me  that 
Djek  had  miscalculated  her  strength ;  that  she  wanted 
to  caress  so  kind  a  manager,  who  was  always  feeding 
and  courting  her,  and  had  embraced  him  too  warmly. 

The  play  went  on,  and  the  elephant's  reputation  in- 
creased. But  her  popularity  was  destined  to  receive  a 
shock  as  far  as  we  little  ones  behind  the  curtain  were 
concerned. 

One  day,  while  Pippin  was  spreading  her  straw,  she 
knocked  him  down  with  her  trunk,  and,  pressing  her 
tooth  against  him,  bored  two  frightful  holes  in  his  skull 
before  Elliot  could  interfere.  Pippin  was  carried  to  St. 
George's  Hospital,  and  we  began  to  look  in  one  another's 
faces. 

Pippin's  situation  was  in  the  market. 

One  or  two  declined  it.  It  came  down  to  me.  I  re- 
flected, and  accepted  it:  another  nine  shillings;  total, 
twenty-seven  shillings. 


282  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

That  night  two  supers  turned  tail.  An  actress  also, 
whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  refused  to  go  on  with  her. 
"I  was  not  engaged  to  play  with  a  brute,"  said  this  lady, 
"  and  I  won't."  Others  went  on  as  usual,  but  were  not 
so  sweet  on  it  as  before.  The  rightful  heir  lost  all  relish 
for  his  part,  and,  above  all,  when  his  turn  came  to  be  pre- 
served from  harm  by  her,  I  used  to  hear  him  crying  out 
of  the  box  to  Elliot,  "  Are  you  there  ?  are  you  sure  you 
are  there?"  and,  when  she  tore  open  his  box,  Garrick 
never  acted  better  than  this  one  used  to  now,  for  you 
see  his  cue  was  to  exhibit  fear  and  exhaustion,  and  he 
did  both  to  the  life,  because  for  the  last  five  minutes  he 
had  been  thinking,  "  Oh  dear !  oh  dear !  suppose  she 
should  do  the  foot  business  on  my  box  instead  of  the 
proboscis  business." 

These,  however,  were  vain  fears.  She  made  no  mis- 
take before  the  public. 

Nothing  lasts  forever  in  this  world,  and  the  time  came 
that  she  ceased  to  fill  the  house.  Then  Mr.  Yates  re-en- 
gaged her  for  the  provinces,  and,  having  agreed  with  the 
country  managers,  sent  her  down  to  Bath  and  Bristol 
first.  He  had  a  good  opinion  of  me,  and  asked  me  to 
go  with  her  and  watch  his  interests.  I  should  not  cer- 
tainly have  applied  for  the  place,  but  it  was  not  easy  to 
say  no  to  Mr.  Yates,  and  I  felt  I  owed  him  some  repara- 
tion for  the  wrong  I  had  done  that  great  artist  in  ac- 
companying his  voice  with  my  gestures. 

In  short,  we  started,  Djek,  Elliot,  Bernard,  I,  and  Pip- 
pin, on  foot  (he  was  just  out  of  St.  George's).  Messrs. 
Huguet  and  Yates  rolled  in  their  carriage  to  meet  us  at 
the  principal  towns  where  we  played. 

As  we  could  not  afford  to  make  her  common,  -our  walk- 
ing was  all  night-work,  and  introduced  me  to  a  rough 
life. 

The  average  of  night  weather  is  wetter  and  windier 
than  day,  and  many  a  vile  night  we  tramped  through 
when  wise  men  were  abed ;  and  we  never  knew  for  cer- 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  283 

tain  where  we  shoiild  pass  the  night,  for  it  depended  on 
Djek.  She  was  so  enormous  that  half  the  inns  could  not 
find  us  a  place  big  enough  for  her."  Our  first  evening 
stroll  was  to  Bath  and  Bristol;  thence  we  crossed  to 
Dublin,  thence  we  returned  to  Plymouth.  We  walked 
from  Plymouth  to  Liverpool,  playing  with  good  success 
at  all  these  places.  At  Liverpool  she  laid  hold  of  Ber- 
nard and  would  have  settled  his  hash,  but  Elliot  came 
between  them. 

That  same  afternoon,  in  walks  a  young  gentleman 
dressed  in  the  height  of  Parisian  fashion — glossy  hat, 
satin  tie,  trowsers  puckered  at  the  haunches — sprucer 
than  any  poor  Englishman  wih1  be  while  the  world  lasts, 
and  who  was  it  but  Mons.  Bernard  come  to  take  leave. 
We  endeavored  to  dissuade  him.  He  smiled  and  shook 
his  head,  treated  us,  flattered  us,  and  showed  us  his  prep- 
arations for  France. 

All  that  day  and  the  next  he  sauntered  about  us  dress- 
ed like  a  gentleman,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
an  ostentatious  neglect  of  his  late  aifectionate  charge. 
Before  he  left  he  invited  me  to  drink  something  at  his 
expense,  and  was  good  enough  to  say  I  was  what  he 
most  regetted  leaving. 

"Then  why  go?"  said  I. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  mon  pauvre  garc.on,"  said  Mons.  Ber- 
nard. "  We  old  hands  have  all  got  our  orders  to  say  she 
is  a  duck.  Ah !  you  have  found  that  out  of  yourself. 
Well,  now,  as  I  have  done  with  her,  I  will  tell  you  a  part 
of  her  character,  for  I  know  her  well.  Once  she  injures 
you  she  can  never  forgive  you.  So  long  as  she  has  nev- 
er hurt  you  there's  a  fair  chance  she  never  will.  I  have 
been  about  her  for  years,  and  she  never  molested  me  till 
yesterday.  But,  if  she  once  attacks  a  man,  that  man's 
death-warrant  is  signed.  I  can't  altogether  account  for 
it,  but  trust  my  experience,  it  is  so.  I  would  have  staid 
with  you  all  my  life  if  she  had  not  shown  me  my  fate, 
but  not  now.  Merci !  I  have  a  wife  and  two  children  in 


284  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

France.  I  have  saved  some  money  out  of  her.  I  return 
to  the  bosom  of  my  family ;  and  if  Pippin  stays  with  her 
after  the  hint  she  gave  him  in  London,  why,  you  will  see 
the  death  of  Pippin,  my  lad,  voilk  tout,  that  is,  if  you 
don't  go  first.  Qu'est  que  <?a  te  fait  a  la  fin  ?  tu  es  gar- 
9on  toi — buvons  !" 

The  next  day  he  left  us,  and  left  me  sad  for  one.  The 
quiet  determination  with  which  he  acted  upon  positive 
experience  of  her  was  enough  to  make  a  man  thought- 
ful ;  and  then  Bernard  was  the  flower  of  us  :  he  was  the 
drop  of  mirth  and  gayety  in  our  iron  cup.  He  was  a 
pure,  unadulterated  Frenchman ;  and,  to  be  just,  where 
can  you  find  any  thing  so  delightful  as  a  Frenchman — of 
the  right  sort  ? 

He  fluttered  home  singing 

"Les  doux  yeux  de  ma  brunet — te, 

Tout — e  mignonett — e — tout — e — gentillett — e, " 
and  left  us  all  in  black. 

God  bless  you,  my  merry  fellow.  I  hope  you  found 
your  children  healthy,  and  your  brunette  true,  and  your 
friends  alive,  and  that  the  world  is  just  to  you,  and  smiles 
on  you,  as  you  do  on  it,  and  did  on  us. 

From  Liverpool  we  walked  to  Glasgow,  from  Glasgow 
to  Edinburgh,  and  from  Edinburgh  on  a  cold  starry  mid- 
night we  started  for  Newcastle. 

In  this  interval  of  business  let  me  paint  you  my  com- 
panions Pippin  and  Elliot.  The  reader  is  entitled  to 
this,  for  there  must  have  been  something  out  of  the  com- 
mon in  their  looks,  since  I  was  within  an  ace  of  being 
killed  along  of  the  Italian's  face,  and  was  imprisoned  four 
days  through  the  Englishman's  mug. 

The  Italian  whom  we  know  by  the  nickname  of  Pip- 
phi  was  a  man  of  immense  stature  and  athletic  mould. 
His  face,  once  seen,  would  never  be  forgotten.  His  skin, 
almost  as  swarthy  as  Othello's,  was  set  off  by  dazzling 
ivory  teeth,  and  lighted  by  two  glorious  large  eyes,  black 
as  jet,  brilliant  as  diamonds ;  the  orbs  of  black  lightning 


JACK    OF    AT.T.   TRADES.  285 

gleamed  from  beneath  eyebrows  that  many  a  dandy 
would  have  bought  for  mustaches  at  a  high  valuation. 
A  nose  like  a  reaping-hook  completed  him.  Perch  him 
on  a  tolerable-sized  rock,  and  there  you  had  a  black  eagle. 

As  if  this  was  not  enough,  Pippin  would  always  wear 
a  conical  hat ;  and  had  he  but  stepped  upon  the  stage  in 
"Masaniello"  or  the  like,  all  the  other  brigands  would 
have  sunk  down  to  a  rural  police  by  the  side  of  our  man. 
But  now  comes  the  absurdity.  His  inside  was  not  differ- 
ent from  his  out ;  it  was  the  exact  opposite.  You  might 
turn  over  twenty  thousand  bullet  heads  and  bolus  eyes 
before  you  could  find  one  man  so  thoroughly  harmless 
as  this  thundering  brigand.  He  was  just  a  pet,  a  uni- 
versal pet  of  all  the  men  and  women  that  came  near  him. 
He  had  the  disposition  of  a  dove  and  the  heart  of  a  hare. 
He  was  a  lamb  in  wolf's  clothing. 

My  next  portrait  is  not  so  pleasing. 

A  MAN   TURNED   BRUTE. 

Some  ten  years  before  this,  a  fine,  stout  young  English 
rustic  entered  the  service  of  Mademoiselle  Djek.  He 
was  a  model  for  bone  and  muscle,  and  had  two  cheeks 
like  roses.  When  he  first  went  to  Paris  he  was  looked 
on  as  a  curiosity  there.  People  used  to  come  to  Djek's 
stable  to  see  her,  and  Elliot,  the  young  English  Samson. 
Just  ten  years  after  this  young  Elliot  had  got  to  be  call- 
ed "  old  Elliot."  His  face  was  not  only  pale,  it  was 
colorless;  it  was  the  face  of  a  walking  corpse.  This 
came  of  ten  years'  brandy  and  brute.  I  have  often  ask- 
ed people  to  guess  the  man's  age,  and  they  always  guess- 
ed sixty,  sixty-five,  or  seventy — oftenest  the  latter. 

He  was  thirty-five — not  a  day  more. 

This  man's  mind  had  come  down  along  with  his  body. 
He  understood  nothing  but  elephant ;  he  seldom  talked, 
and  then  nothing  but  elephant.  He  was  an  elephant- 
man.  I  will  give  you  an  instance  which  I  always  thought 
curious. 

An  elephant,  you  may  have  observed,  can  not  stand 


286  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

quite  still.  The  great  weight  of  its  head  causes  a  nod- 
ding movement,  which  is  perpetual  when  the  creature 
stands  erect.  Well,  this  Tom  Elliot,  when  he  stood  up, 
used  always  to  have  one  foot  advanced,  and  his  eye  half 
closed,  and  his  head  niddle-noddling  like  an  elephant  all 
the  time ;  and  with  it  all  such  a  presence  of  brute  and 
absence  of  soul  in  his  mug,  enough  to  give  a  thoughtful 
man  some  very  queer  ideas  about  man  and  beast. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MY  office  in  this  trip  was  merely  to  contract  for  the 
elephant's  food  at  the  various  places ;  but  I  was  getting 
older  and  shrewder,  and  more  designing  than  I  used  to 
be,  and  I  was  quite  keen  enough  to  see  in  this  elephant 
the  means  of  bettering  my  fortunes,  if  I  could  but  make 
friends  with  her.  But  how  to  do  this  ?  She  was  like  a 
coquette :  strange  admirers  welcome  ;  but  when  you  had 
courted  her  a  while  she  got  tired  of  you,  and  then  noth- 
ing short  of  your  demise  satisfied  her  caprice.  Her  heart 
seemed  inaccessible  except  to  this  brute  Elliot,  and  he, 
drunk  or  sober,  guarded  the  secret  of  his  fascination  by 
some  instinct,  for  reason  he  possessed  hi  a  very  small  de- 
gree. 

I  played  the  spy  on  quadruped  and  biped,  and  I  found 
out  the  fact,  but  the  reason  beat  me.  I  saw  that  she 
was  more  tenderly  careful  of  him  than  a  mother  of  her 
child.  I  saw  him  roll  down  stupid  drunk  under  her 
belly,  and  I  saw  her  lift  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other, 
and  draw  them  slowly  and  carefully  back,  trembling  with 
fear  lest  she  might  make  a  mistake  and  hurt  him. 

But  why  she  was  a  mother  to  him  and  a  stepmother 
to  the  rest  of  us,  that  I  could  not  learn. 

One  day,  between  Plymouth  and  Liverpool,  having 
left  Elliot  and  her  together,  I  happened  to  return,  and  I 
found  the  elephant  alone  and  in  a  state  of  excitement, 
and  looking  in  I  observed  some  blood  upon  the  straw. 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  287 

His  turn  has  come  at  last,  was  rny  first  notion ;  but, 
looking  round,  there  was  Elliot  behind  me. 

"  I  was  afraid  she  had  tried  it  on  with  you,"  I  said. 

"  Who  ?" 

"The  elephant." 

Elliot's  face  was  not  generally  expressive,  but  the  look 
of  silent  scorn  he  gave  me  at  the  idea  of  the  elephant  at- 
tacking him  was  worth  seeing.  The  brute  knew  some- 
thing I  did  not  know,  and  could  not  find  out ;  and  from 
this  one  piece  of  knowledge  he  looked  down  upon  me 
with  a  sort  of  contempt  that  set  all  the  Seven  Dials' 
blood  on  fire. 

"  I  will  bottom  this,"  said  I,  "  if  I  die  for  it." 

My  plan  now  was  to  feed  Djek  every  day  with  my 
qwn  hand,  but  never  to  go  near  her  without  Elliot  at  my 
very  side  and  in  front  of  the  elephant. 

This  was  my  first  step. 

We  were  now  drawing  toward  Newcastle,  and  had  to 
lie  at  Morpeth,  where  we  arrived  late,  and  found  Mr. 
Yates  and  M.  Huguet,  who  had  come  out  from  New- 
castle to  meet  us ;  and  at  this  place  I  determined  on  a 
new  move  which  I  had  long  meditated. 

Elliot,  I  reflected,  always  slept  with  the  elephant. 
None  of  the  other  men  had  ever  done  this.  Now  might 
there  not  be  some  magic  in  this  unbroken  familiarity  be- 
tween the  two  animals  ? 

Accordingly,  at  Morpeth,  I  pretended  there  was  no 
bed  vacant  in  the  inn,  and  asked  Elliot  to  let  me  lie  be- 
side him :  he  grunted  an  ungracious  assent. 

Not  to  overdo  it  at  first,  I  got  Elliot  between  me  and 
Djek,  so  that  if  she  was  offended  at  my  intrusion  she 
must  pass  over  her  darling  to  resent  it.  We  had  tramp- 
ed a  good  many  miles,  and  were  soon  fast  asleep. 

About  two  in  the  morning  I  was  awoke  by  a  shout 
and  a  crunching,  and  felt  myself  dropping  into  the  straw 
out  of  the  elephant's  mouth.  She  had  stretched  her 
proboscis  over  him — had  taken  me  up  so  delicately  that 


288  JACK   OF    ALT.   TRADES. 

I  felt  nothing,  and  when  Elliot  shouted  I  was  in  her 
mouth.  At  his  voice,  that  rung  in  my  ears  like  the  last 
trumpet,  she  dropped  me  like  a  hot  potato.  I  rolled  out 
of  the  straw,  giving  tongue  a  good  one,  and  ran  out  of 
the  shed.  I  had  no  sooner  got  to  the  inn  than  I  felt  a 
sickening  pain  in  my  shoulder  and  fainted  away. 

Her  huge  tooth  had  gone  into  my  shoulder  like  a 
wedge.  It  was  myself  I  had  heard  being  crunched. 

They  did  what  they  could  for  me,  and  I  soon  came  to. 
When  I  recovered  my  senses  I  was  seized  with  vomit- 
ing ;  but  at  last  all  violent  symptoms  abated,  and  I  be- 
gan to  suffer  great  pain  in  the  injured  part,  and  did  suf- 
fer for  six  weeks. 

And  so  I  scraped  clear.  Somehow  or  other,  Elliot 
was  not  drunk,  or  nothing  could  have  saved  me.  For  a 
second  wonder,  he,  who  was  a  heavy  sleeper,  woke  at 
the  very  slight  noise  she  made  eating  me:  a  moment 
later,  and  nothing  could  have  saved  me.  I  use  too  many 
words — suppose  she  had  eaten  me — what  then  ? 

They  told  Mr.  Yates  at  breakfast,  and  he  sent  for  me, 
and  advised  me  to  lie  quiet  at  Morpeth  till  the  fever  of 
the  wound  should  be  off  me ;  but  I  refused.  She  was 
to  start  at  ten,  and  I  told  him  I  should  start  with  her. 

Running  from  grim  death  like  that,  I  had  left  my  shoes 
behind  in  the  shed,  and  M.  Huguet  sent  his  servant  Bap- 
tiste,  an  Italian,  for  them. 

Mr.  Yates  then  asked  me  for  all  the  particulars,  and 
while  I  was  telling  him  and  M.  Huguet,  we  heard  a  com- 
motion in  the  street,  and  saw  people  running,  and  pres- 
ently one  of  the  waiters  ran  in  and  cried, 

"  The  elephant  has  killed  a  man,  or  near  it." 

Mr.  Yates  laughed  and  said, 

"  Not  quite  so  bad  as  that ;  for  here  is  the  man." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  waiter,  "  it  is  not  him ;  it  is  one 
of  the  foreigners." 

Mr.  Yates  started  up  all  trembling.  "He  ran  to  the 
stable.  I  followed  him  as  I  was,  and  there  we  saw  a 


JACK   OP   ALT.  TRADES.  289 

sight  to  make  our  blood  run  cold.  On  the  corn-bin  lay 
poor  Baptiste  crushed  into  a  mummy.  How  it  hap- 
pened there  was  no  means  of  knowing ;  but,  no  doubt, 
while  he  was  groping  in  the  straw  for  my  wretched 
shoes,  she  struck  him  with  her  trunk,  perhaps  more  than 
once ;  his  breast-bones  were  broken  to  chips,  and  every 
time  he  breathed,  which  by  God's  mercy  was  not  many 
minutes,  the  man's  whole  chest-frame  puffed  out  like  a 
bladder  with  the  action  of  his  lungs :  it  was  too  horrible 
to  look  at. 

Elliot  had  run  at  Baptiste's  cry,  but  too  late  to  save 
his  life  this  time.  He  had  drawn  the  man  out  of  the 
straw  as  she  was  about  to  pound  him  to  a  jelly,  and 
there  the  poor  soul  lay  on  the  corn-bin,  and  by  his  side 
lay  the  things  he  had  died  for — two  old  shoes.  Elliot 
had  found  them  in  the  straw,  and  put  them  there  of  all 
places  in  the  world. 

By  this  time  all  Morpeth  was  out.  They  besieged  the 
doors  and  vowed  death  to  the  elephant.  M.  Huguet  be- 
came greatly  alarmed.  He  could  spare  Baptiste,  but  he 
could  not  spare  Djek.  He  got  Mr.  Yates  to  pacify  the 
people.  "  Tell  them  something,"  said  he. 

"What  on  earth  can  I  say  for  her  over  that  man's 
bleeding  body  ?"  said  Mr.  Yates,  "  Curse  her !  would 
to  God  I  had  never  seen  her !" 

"  Tell  them  he  used  her  cruel,"  said  M.  Huguet ;  "  I 
have  brought  her  off  with  that  before  now." 

"Well,  my  sickness  came  on  again,  partly,  no  doubt,  by 
the  sight  and  the  remorse,  and  I  was  got  to  bed,  and  lay 
there  some  days ;  so  I  did  not  see  all  that  passed,  but  I 
heard  some,  and  I  know  the  rest  by  instinct  now. 

Half  an  hour  after  breakfast-time  Baptiste  died.  On 
this  the  elephant  was  detained  by  the  authorities,  and  a 
coroner's  inquest  was  summoned,  and  sat  in  the  sham- 
bles on  the  victim,  with  the  butcheress  looking  on  at  the 
proceedings. 

Pippin  told  mo  she  took  off  a  juryman's  hat  during 
N 


290  JACK    OF   ALL  TRADES. 

the  investigation,  waved  it  triumphantly  in  the  air,  and 
placed  it  cleverly  on  her  favorite's  head,  old  Tom. 

At  this  inquest  two  or  three  persons  deposed  on  oath 
that  the  deceased  had  ill  used  her  more  than  once  in 
France ;  in  particular,  that  he  had  run  a  pitchfork  into 
her  two  years  ago ;  that  he  had  been  remonstrated  with, 
but  in  vain;  unfortunately,  she  had  recognized  him  at 
once,  and  killed  him  out  of  revenge  for  past  cruelty,  or 
to  save  herself  from  fresh  outrages. 

This  cooled  the  ardor  against  her.  Some  even  took 
part  with  her  against  the  man. 

"  Run  a  pitchfork  into  an  elephant !  Oh !  for  shame ! 
no  wonder  she  killed  him  at  last.  How  good  of  her  not 
to  kill  him  then  and  there — what  forbearance — forgave 
it  for  two  years,  ye  see." 

There  is  a  fixed  opinion  among  men  that  an  elephant 
is  a  good,  kind  creature.  The  opinion  is  fed  by  the  pro- 
prietors of  elephants,  who  must  nurse  the  notion  or  lose 
their  customers,  and  so  a  set  tale  is  always  ready  to  clear 
the  guilty  and  criminate  the  sufferer ;  and  this  tale  is 
greedily  swallowed  by  the  public.  You  will  hear  and 
read  many  such  tales  in  the  papers  before  you  die. 
Every  such  tale  is  a  lie. 

How  curiously  things  happen !  Last  year,  i.  e.,  more 
than  twenty  years  after  this  event,  my  little  girl  went 
for  a  pound  of  butter  to  Newport  Street.  She  brought 
it  wrapped  up  in  a  scrap  of  a  very  old  newspaper ;  in 
unrolling  it,  my  eye,  by  mere  accident,  fell  upon  these 
words :  "  An  inquest."  I  had  no  sooner  read  the  para- 
graph than  I  put  the  scrap  of  paper  away  in  my  desk :  it 
lies  before  me  now,  and  I  am  copying  it. 

"  An  inquest  was  held  at  the  Phoenix  Inn,  Morpeth,  on 
the  27th  ultimo,  on  view  of  the  body  of  an  Italian  named 
Baptiste  Bernard,  who  was  one  of  the  attendants  on  the 
female  elephant  which  lately  performed  at  the  Adelphi. 
It  appeared  from  the  evidence  that  the  man  had  stabbed 
the  elephant  in  the  trunk  with  a  pitchfork  about  two 


JACK    OF    ALL   TKADES.  291 

years  ago  while  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  and  that  on  the 
Tuesday  previous  to  the  inquest  the  animal  caught  hold 
of  him  with  her  trunk  and  did  him  so  much  injury  that 
he  died  in  a  few  hours.  Verdict,  died  from  the  wounds 
and  bruises  received  from  the  trunk  of  an  elephant. 
Deodand,  5s." 

Well,  this  has  gone  all  abroad,  for  print  travels  like 
wind;  and  it  is  not  fair  to  the  friends  and  the  memory 
of  this  Baptiste  Bernard  to  print  that  he  died  by  his 
own  cruelty,  or  fault,  or  folly,  so  take  my  deposition,  and 
carry  it  to  Milan,  his  native  city. 

I  declare  upon  oath  that  the  above  is  a  lie ;  that  the 
man  was  never  an  attendant  upon  the  female  elephant ; 
he  was  an  attendant  on  the  female  Huguet ;  for  he  was 
that  lady's  footman.  His  first  introduction  to  Mademoi- 
selle Djek  was  her  killing  him,  and  he  died,  not  by  any 
fault  of  his  own,  but  by  the  will  of  God  and  through  ig- 
norance of  the  real  nature  of  \hQfull-grown  elephant,  the 
cunningest,  most  treacherous,  and  bloodthirsty  beast  that 
ever  played  the  butcher  among  mankind. 

What  men  speak  dissolves  in  the  air,  what  they  print 
stands  fast  and  will  look  them  in  the  face  to  all  eternity. 
I  print  the  truth  about  this  man's  death :  so  help  me 
God. 

Business  is  business.  As  soon  as  we  had  got  the  in- 
quest over  and  stamped  the  lie  current,  hid  the  truth 
and  buried  the  man,  we  marched  south  and  played  our 
little  play  at  .Newcastle.. 

Deodand  for  a  human  soul  sent  by  murder  to  its  ac- 
count, five  bob. 

After  Newcastle  we  walked  to  York,  and  thence  to 
Manchester.  I  crept  along  thoroughly  crestfallen. 
Months  and  months  I  had  watched,  and  spied,  and  tried 
to  pluck  out  the  heart  of  this  Tom  Elliot's  mystery ;  I 
had  failed.  Months  and  months  I  iiad  tried  to  gain  some 
influence  over  Djek ;  I  had  failed.  But  for  Elliot,  it  was 
clear  I  should  not  live  a  single  day  within  reach  of  her 


292  JACK    OF    ALL   TKAIJKS. 

trunk :  this  brute  was  my  superior.     I  was  compelled  to 
look  up  to  him,  and  I  did  look  up  to  him. 

As  I  tramped  sulkily  along,  my  smarting  shoulder  re- 
minded me  that  in  elephant,  as  in  every  thing  else  I  had 
tried,  I  was  Jack,  not  master. 

The  proprietors  had  their  cause  of  discontent  too.  "We 
had  silenced  the  law,  but  we  could  not  silence  opinion. 
Somehow  suspicion  hung  about  her  in  the  very  air  wher- 
ever she  went.  She  never  throve  in  the  English  prov- 
inces after  the  Morpeth  job,  and  finding  this,  Mr.  Yates 
said,  "  Oh,  hang  her,  she  has  lost  her  character  here ; 
send  her  to  America."  So  he  and  M.  Huguet  joined 
partnership  and  took  this  new  speculation  on  their 
shoulders.  America  was  even  in  that  day  a  great  card 
if  you  went  with  an  English  or  French  reputation. 

I  had  been  thinking  of  leaving  her  and  her  old  Tom  iii 
despair ;  but,  now  that  other  dangers  and  inconveniences 
were  to  be  endured  besides  her  and  her  trunk,  by  some 
strange  freak  of  human  nature,  or  by  fate,  I  began  to 
cling  to  her  like  a  limpet  to  a  rock  the  more  you  pull  at 
him. 

Mr.  Yates  dissuaded  me.  "  Have  nothing  to  do  with 
her,  Jack ;  she  will  serve  you  like  ah1  the  rest.  Stay  at 
home,  and  I'll  find  something  for  you  in  the  theatre." 

I  thought  a  great  deal  of  Mr.  Yates  for  this,  for  he 
was  speaking  against  his  own  interest.  I  was  a  faithful 
servant  to  him,  and  he  needed  one  about  her.  Many  a 
five-pound  note  I  had  saved  him  already,  and  well  he  de- 
served it  at  my  hands. 

"  No,  sir,"  I  said,  "  I  shah1  be  of  use,  and  I  can't  bear 
to  be  nonplushed  by  two  brutes  like  Elliot  and  her.  I 
have  begun  to  study  her,  and  I  must  go  on  to  the  word 
'finis!'" 

Messrs.  Yates  and  Huguet  insured  the  elephant  for 
£20,000,  and  sent  us  all  to  sea  together  in  the  middle  of 
November,  a  pretty  month  to  cross  the  Atlantic  in. 

This  was  what  betters  call  a  hedge,  and  not  a  bad  one. 


JACK   OP   ALL  TEADES.  293 

Our  party  was  Queen  Djek ;  Mr.  Stevenson,  her  finan- 
cier ;  Mr.  Gallott,  her  stage-manager  and  wrongful  heir ; 
Elliot,  her  keeper,  her  lord,  her  king ;  Pippin,  her  slave, 
always  trembling  for  his  head ;  myself,  her  commissariat ; 
and  one  George  Hinde,  from  Wombwell's,  her  man-of- 
all-work. 

She  had  a  stout  cabin  built  upon  deck  for  her.  It  cost 
£40  to  make;  what  she  paid  for  the  accommodation 
heaven  knows,  but  I  should  think  a  good  round  sum,  for 
it  was  the  curse  of  the  sailors  and  passengers,  and  added 
fresh  terrors  to  navigation.  The  steersman  could  not 
see  the  ship's  head  until  the  sea  took  the  mariners'  part 
and  knocked  it  into  toothpicks. 

Captain  Sebor  had  such  a  passage  with  us  as  he  had 
never  encountered  before.  He  told  us  so — and  no  won- 
der ;  he  never  had  such  a  wholesale  murderess  on  board 
before — contrary  winds  forever,  and  stiff  gales  too.  At 
last  it  blew  great  guns ;  and  one  night,  as  the  sun  went 
down  ci'imson  in  the  Gulf  of  Florida,  the  sea  running 
mountains  high,  I  saw  Captain  Sebor  himself  was  fidgety. 
He  had  cause.  That  night  a  tempest  came  on ;  "  the 
Ontario"  rolled  fearfully  and  groaned  like  a  dying  man ; 
about  two  in  the  morning  a  sea  struck  her,  smashed 
Djek's  cabin  to  atoms,  and  left  her  exposed  and  reeling; 
another  such  would  now  have  swept  her  overboard,  but 
her  wits  never  left  her  for  a  moment.  She  threw  herself 
down  flatter  than  any  man  could  have  conceived  possi- 
ble ;  out  went  all  her  four  legs,  and  she  glued  her  belly 
to  the  deck ;  the  sailors  passed  a  chain  from  the  weather 
to  the  lee  bulwarks,  and  she  seized  it  with  her  proboscis, 
and  held  on  like  grim  death.  Poor  thing,  her  coat  nev- 
er got  not  to  say  dry ;  she  was  like  a  great  water-rat  all 
the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

The  passage  was  twelve  weeks  of  foul  weather.  The 
elephant  began  to  be  suspected  of  being  the  cause  of 
this,  and  the  sailors  often  looked  askant  at  her,  and  said 
we  should  never  see  port  till  she  walked  the  plank  into 


294  JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES. 

the  Atlantic.  If  her  underwriters  saved  their  twenty 
thousand  pounds,  it  was  touch  and  go  more  than  once  or 
twice.  Moreover,  she  ate  so  little  all  the  voyage  that  it 
was  a  wonder  to  Elliot  and  me  how  she  came  not  to  die 
of  sickness  and  hunger.  I  suppose  she  survived  it  all 
because  she  had  more  mischief  to  do. 

As  the  pretty  little  witches  sing  in  Mr.  Locke's  opera 
of  "Macbeth," 

She  must,  she  must,  she  must,  she  must,  she  must  shed 
— much more blood. 


CHAPTER  VH. 

OUR  preposterous  long  voyage  deranged  all  the  calcu- 
lations that  had  been  made  'for  us  in  England,  and  we 
reached  New  York  just  at  the  wrong  time.  We  found 
Master  Burke  playing  at  the  Park  Theatre,  and  we  were 
forced  to  treat  with  an  inferior  house,  the  Bowery  Thea- 
tre. We  played  there  with  but  small  success  compared 
with  what  we  had  been  used  to  in  Europe.  Master 
Burke  filled  the  house — we  did  not  fill  ours — so  that  at 
last  she  was  actually  eclipsed  by  a  human  actor ;  to  be 
sure  it  was  a  boy,  not  a  man,  and  child's  play  is  some- 
tunes  preferred  by  the  theatre-going  world  even  to  horse- 
play. 

The  statesmen  were  cold  to  us ;  they  had  not  at  this 
time  learned  to  form  an  opinion  of  their  own  at  sight  on 
such  matters,  and  we  did  not  bring  them  an  overpower- 
ing European  verdict  to  which  they  had  nothing  to  do 
but  sign  their  names.  There  was  no  groove  cut  for  the 
mind  to  run  in,  and  while  they  hesitated,  the  speculation 
halted.  I  think  she  would  succeed  there  now;  but  at 
this  time  they  were  not  ripe  for  an  elephant. 

We  left  New  York,  and  away  to  Philadelphia  on  foot 
and  steam-boat. 

There  is  a  place  on  the  Delaware  where  the  boat  draws 


JACK   OF  ALL  TEADES.  295 

up  to  a  small  pier.  Down  this  we  marched,  and  about 
ten  yards  from  the  end  the  floor  gave  way  under  her 
weight,  and  Djek  and  her  train  fell  into  the  sea.  I  was 
awoke  from  a  reverie,  and  found  myself  sitting  right  at 
top  of  her,  with  my  knees  in  Chesapeake  Bay.  Elliot 
had  a  rough  Benjamin  on,  and  as  he  was  coming  thun- 
dering down  with  the  rest  of  the  rubbish  alive  and  dead, 
it  caught  in  a  nail,  and  he  hung  over  the  bay  by  the 
shoulder  like  an  Indian  fakir,  cursing  and  swearing  for 
all  the  world  like  a  dog  barking.  I  never  saw  siich  a 
posture — and,  oh !  the  language ! 

I  swam  out,  but  Djek  was  caught  in  a  trap  between 
the  two  sets  of  piles.  The  water  was  about  two  feet 
over  her  head,  so  that  every  now  and  then  she  disap- 
peared, and  then  striking  the  bottom  she  came  up  again, 
plunging,  and  rolling,  and  making  waves  like  a  steam- 
boat. Her  trunk  she  kept  vertical,  like  the  hose  of  a 
diving-bell,  and  oh !  the  noises  that  came  up  from  the 
bottom  of  the  sea  through  that  flesh-pipe !  For  about  four 
hours  she  went  up  and  down  the  gamut  of  "  O  Lord, 
what  shall  I  do  ?"  more  than  a  thousand  tunes,  I  think. 
We  brought  ropes  to  her  aid,  and  boats  and  men,  and 
tried  all  we  knew  to  move  her,  but  in  vain ;  and  when 
we  had  exhausted  our  sagacity,  she  drew  upon  a  better 
bank — her  own.  Talk  of  brutes  not  being  able  to  reason 
— gammon.  Djek  could  reason  like  Solomon;  for  each 
fresh  difficulty  she  found  a  fresh  resource.  On  this  oc- 
casion she  did  what  I  never  saw  her  do  before  or  since : 
she  took  her  enormous  skull,  and  used  it  as  a  battering- 
ram  against  the  piles ;  two  of  them  resisted — no  wonder 
— they  were  about  eight  inches  in  diameter ;  the  third 
snapped  like  glass,  and  she  plunged  through  and  waddled 
on  shore.  I  met  her  with  a  bucket  of  brandy  and  hot 
water — stiff. 

Ladies,  who  are  said  to  sip  this  compound  in  your 
boudoirs  while  your  husbands  are  smoking  at  the  clubs, 
but  I  don't  believe  it  of  you,  learn  how  this  lady  disposed 


296  JACK    OF  ALL  TRADES. 

of  her  wooden  tumbler  full.  She  thrust  her  proboscis 
into  it.  Whis — s — s — s — p !  now  it  is  all  in  her  trunk. 
Whis — s — s — sh!  now  it  is  all  in  her  abdomen:  one 
breath  drawn  and  exhaled  sent  it  from  the  bucket  home. 
This  done,  her  eye  twinkled,  and  she  trumpeted  to  the 
tune  of  "  All  is  well  that  ends  well." 

I  should  weary  the  reader  were  I  to  relate  at  length 
all  the  small  incidents  that  befell  us  in  the  United  States. 

The  general  result  was  failure,  loss  of  money,  our  sal- 
aries not  paid  up,  and  fearful  embarrassments  staring  us 
in  the  face.  We  scraped  through  without  pawning  the 
elephant,  but  we  were  often  on  the  verge  of  it.  All  this 
did  not  choke  my  ambition.  Warned  by  the  past,  I 
never  ventured  near  her  (unless  Elliot  was  there)  for 
twelve  months  after  our  landing;  but  I  was  always 
watching  Elliot  and  her  to  find  the  secret  of  his  influence. 

A  fearful  annoyance  to  the  leaders  of  the  speculation 
was  the  drunkenness  of  Old  Tom  and  George  Hinde: 
these  two  encouraged  one  another  and  defkd  us,  and  of 
course  they  were  our  masters,  because  no  one  but  Elliot 
could  move  the  elephant  from  place  to  place,  or  work 
her  on  the  stage. 

One  night  Elliot  was  so  drunk  that  he  fell  down  sense- 
less at  the  door  of  her  shed  on  his  way  to  repose.  I  was 
not  near,  but  Mr.  Gallott  it  seems  was,  and  he  told  us 
she  put  out  her  proboscis,  drew  him  tenderly  in,  laid  him 
on  the  straw,  and  flung  some  straw  over  him  or  partly 
over  him.  Mr.  Gallott  is  alive,  and  a  public  character ; 
you  can  ask  him  whether  this  is  true :  I  tell  this  one 
thing  on  hearsay. 

Not  long  after  this,  in  one  of  the  American  towns,  I 
forget  which,  passing  by  Djek's  shed,  I  heard  a  tremen- 
dous row.  I  was  about  to  call  Elliot,  thinking  it  was  the 
old  story,  somebody  getting  butchered;  but,  I  don't 
know  how  it  was,  something  stopped  me,  and  I  looked 
cautiously  in  instead,  and  saw  Tom  Elliot  walking  into 
her  with  a  pitchfork,  she  trembling  like  a  schoolboy  with 


JACK    OF   ALL   TKADES.  297 

her  head  in  a  corner,  and  the  blood  streaming  from  her 
sides.  As  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  me  he  left  off  and 
muttered  unintelligibly.  I  said  nothing.  I  thought  the 
more. 


CHAPTER 

had  to  go  by  water  to  a  place  called  City  Point, 
and  thence  to  Pittsville.  I  made  a  mistake  as  to  the 
hour  the  boat  started,  and  Djek  and  Co.  went  on  board 
without  me. 

Well,  you  will  say  I  could  follow  by  the  next  boat. 
But  how  about  the  tin  to  pay  the  passage  ?  My  pocket 
was  dry,  and  the  treasurer  gone  on.  But  I  had  a  good 
set  of  blacking,  brushes ;  so  sold  them,  and  followed  on 
with  the  proceeds — got  to  City  Point.  Elephant  gone 
on  to  Pittsville ;  that  I  expected.  Twenty  miles  or  so  I 
had  to  tramp  on  an  empty  stomach.  And  now  doesn't 
the  devil  send  me  a  fellow  who  shows  me  a  short  cut 
through  a  wood  to  Pittsville :  into  the  wood  I  go.  I 
thought  it  was  to  be  like  an  English  wood — out  of  the 
sun  into  a  pleasant  shade,  and,  by  then  you  are  cool,  into 
the  world  again.  Instead  of  that,  "  the  deeper,  the  deep- 
er you  are  in  it,"  as  the  song  of  the  bottle  says,  the 
farther  you  were  from  getting  out  of  it.  Presently  two 
roads  instead  of  one,  and  then  I  knew  I  was  done.  I 
took  one  road :  it  twisted  like  a  serpent.  I  had  not  been 
half  an  hour  on  it  before  I  lost  all  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass. Says  I,  I  don't  know  whether  I  ever  shall  see  day- 
light again ;  but  if  I  do,  City  Point  will  be  the  first  thing 
I  shall  see.  You  mark  my  words,  said  I. 

So  here  was  I  lost  in  what  they  call  a  wood  out  there, 
but  we  should  call  a  forest  at  home.  And  now,  being  in 
the  heart  of  it,  I  got  among  the  devilishest  noises,  and 
nothing  to  be  seen  to  account  for  them ;  little  feet  sud- 
denly pattering  and  scurrying  along  the  ground,  wings 


298  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

flapping  out  of  trees ;  but  what  struck  most  awe  into  a 
chap  from  the  Seven  Dials  was  the  rattle — the  everlast- 
ing rattle,  and  nothing  to  show.  Often  I  have  puzzled 
myself  what  this  rattle  could  be.  It  was  like  a  thousand 
rattlesnakes,  and  didn't  I  wish  I  was  in  the  Seven  Dials, 
though  some  get  lost  in  them  for  that  matter.  After  all, 
I  think  it  was  only  insects,  but  insects  by  billions ;  you 
never  heard  any  thing  like  it  in  an  English  wood. 

Just  as  I  was  losing  heart  in  this  enchanted  wood,  I 
heard  an  earthly  sound,  the  tramp  of  a  horse's  foot.  It 
was  music. 

But  the  leaves  were  so  thick  I  could  not  see  where  the 
horse  was ;  he  seemed  to  get  farther  off,  and  then  near- 
er. At  last  the  sound  came  so  close  I  made  a  run,  burst 
through  a  lot  of  green  leaves,  and  came  out  plump  on  a 
man  riding  a  gray  cob.  He  up  with  the  butt-end  of  his 
whip  to  fell  me,  but,  seeing  I  was  respectable,  "  Halloo ! 
stranger,"  says  he,  "guess  you  sort  o'  startled  me." 
"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  says  I,  "but  I  have  lost  my  way." 
"  I  see  you  are  a  stranger,"  said  he. 

So  then  he  asked  me  where  I  was  bound  for,  and  I 
told  him  Pittsville. 

I  won't  insult  the  reader  by  telling  him  what  he  said 
about  the  course  I  had  been  taking  through  the  wood. 
I  might  as  well  tell  him  his  A  B  C,  or  which  side  his 
bread  and  butter  falls  in  the  dust  on.  Then  he  asked 
me  who  I  was.  So  I  told  him  I  was  one  of  the  elephant's 
domestics,  leastways  I  did  not  word  it  so  candid :  "I  was 
in  charge  of  the  elephant,  and  had  taken  a  short  cut." 

Now  he  had  heard  of  Djek,  and  seen  her  bills  xip,  so 
he  knew  it  was  all  right.  "  How  am  I  to  find  my  way 
out,  sir  ?"  said  I.  "  Find  your  way  out  ?"  said  he.  "  You 
will  never  find  your  way  out."  Good  news,  that. 

He  thought  a  bit ;  then  he  said,  "  The  best  thing  you 
can  do  is  to  come  home  with  me,  and  to-morrow  I  will 
send  you  on." 

I  could  have  hugged  him. 


JACK    OF   ALL  TEADES.  299 

"You  had  better  walk  behind  me,"  says  he;  "my 
pony  bites."  So  I  tramped  astern;  and  on  we  went, 
patter,  patter,  patter  through  the  wood.  At  first  I  felt 
as  jolly  as  a  sandboy  marching  behind  the  pony ;  but 
when  we  had  pattered  best  part  of  an  hour,  I  began  to 
have  my  misgivings.  In  all  the  enchanted  woods  ever  I 
had  read  of,  there  was  a  small  trifle  of  a  wizard  or  ogre 
that  took  you  home  and  settled  your  hash.  Fee  faw 
fum,  I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Englishmun,  etc. 

And  still  on  we  pattered,  and  the  sun  began  to  decline, 
and  the  wood  to  darken,  and  still  we  pattered  on.  I  was 
just  thinking  of  turning  tail  and  slipping  back  among  the 
panthers,  and  musquitoes,  and  rattlesnakes,  when,  O  be 
joyful,  we  burst  on  a  clearing,  and  there  was  a  nice  house 
in  the  middle  of  it,  and  out  came  the  dogs  jumping  to 
welcome  us,  and  niggers  no  end  with  white  eyeballs  and 
grinders  like  snow. 

They  pulled  him  off  his  horse,  and  in  we  went.  There 
was  his  good  lady,  and  his  daughter — a  beautiful  girl, 
and  such  a  dinner.  We  sat  down,  and  I  maintained  a 
modest  taciturnity  for  some  minutes:  "The  silent  hog 
eats  the  most  acorns."  After  dinner  he  shows  me  all 
manner  of  ways  of  mixing  the  grog,  and  I  show  him  one 
way  of  drinking  it — when  you  can  get  it.  Then  he  must 
hear  about  the  elephant.  So  I  tell  him  the  jade's  his- 
tory, but  bind  him  to  secrecy. 

Then  the  young  lady  puts  in.  "  So  you  are  really  an 
Englishman  ?"  and  she  looks  me  all  over. 

"  That  you  may  take  your  oath  of,  miss,"  says  I. 

"Oh!"  says  she,  and  smiles.  I  did  not  take  it  up  at 
first,  but  I  see  what  it  was  now.  Me  standing  five  feet 
four,  I  did  not  come  up  to  her  notion  of  the  Father  of  all 
Americans.  "  Does  this  great  people  spring  from  such 
a  little  stock  as  we  have  here  ?"  thinks  my  young  lady. 
I  should  have  up  and  told  her  the  pluck  makes  the  man, 
and  not  the  inches ;  but  I  lost  that  chance.  Then,  being 
pressed  with  questions,  I  told  them  all  my  adventures, 


300  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

and  they  hung  on  my  words.  It  was  a  new  leaf  to  them, 
I  could  see  that. 

The  young  lady's  eyes  glittered  like  two  purple  stars 
at  a  stranger  with  the  gift  of  the  gab  that  had  seen  so 
much  life  as  I  had,  and  midnight  came  in  no  time.  Then 
I  was  ushered  to  bed.  Now  up  to  that  time  I  had  al- 
ways gone  to  roost  without  pomp  or  ceremony;  some- 
times with  a  mould  candle,  but  oftener  a  farthing  dip, 
which  I  have  seen  it  dart  its  beams  out  of  a  bottle  in- 
stead of  a  flat  candlestick. 

This  time  a  whole  cavalcade  of  us  went  up  the  stairs : 
one  blackie  marched  hi  my  van  with  two  lights,  two 
blackies  brought  up  my  rear.  They  showed  me  into  a 
beautiful  room,  and  stood  in  the  half-light  with  eyes  and 
teeth  like  Ted-hot  silver,  glittering  and  diabolical.  I 
thought,  of  course,  they  would  go  away  now.  Not  they. 
Presently  one  imp  of  darkness  brings  me  a  chair. 

I  sit  down,  and  wonder.  Other  two  lay  hold  of  my 
boots  and  whip  them  off.  This  done,  they  buzz  about 
me  like  black  and  white  fiends,  fidgeting,  till  I  longed  to 
punch  their  heads.  They  pull  my  coat  off  and  my  trow- 
sers ;  then  they  hoist  me  into  bed :  this  done,  first  one 
makes  a  run  and  tucks  me  in,  and  grins  over  me  diabolic- 
al ;  then  another  comes  like  a  battering-ram,  and  tucks 
me  in  tighter.  Fiend  3  looks  at  the  work,  and  puts  the 
artful  touches  at  the  corners,  and  behold  me  wedged, 
and  then  the  beneficent  fiends  mizzled  with  a  hearty  grin 
that  seemed  to  turn  them  all  ivory.  I  could  not  believe 
my  senses :  I  had  never  been  tucked  in  since  my  mother's 
time. 

In  the  morning,  struggled  out,  and  came  down,  to 
breakfast.  Took  leave  of  the  good  Samaritan,  who  ap- 
pointed two  of  my  niggers  to  see  me  out  of  the  wood ; 
made  my  bow  to  the  ladies,  and  away  with  a  grateful 
heart.  The  niggers  conducted  me  clear  of  the  wood  and 
set  me  on  the  broad  road.  Then  came  one  of  the  pills  a 
poor  fellow  has  to  stomach.  I  had  made  friends  with 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  301 

the  poor  darkies,  and  now  I  had  not  even  a  few  pence  to 
give  them,  and  such  a  little  would  have  gone  so  far  with 
them !  I  have  often  felt  the  bitterness  of  poverty,  but 
never  I  do  think  as  when  I  parted  with  my  poor  niggers 
at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  was  forced  to  see  them  go 
slowly  home  without  a  farthing. 

I  wish  these  few  words  could  travel  across  the  water, 
and  my  good  host  might  read  them,  and  see  I  have  not 
forgotten  him  all  these  years.  But,  dear  heart!  you 
may  be  sure  he  is  not  upon  the  earth  now.  It  is  years 
ago,  and  a  man  that  had  the  heart  to  harbor  a  stranger 
and  a  wanderer,  why  he  would  be  one  of  the  first  to  go. 

We  steamed  and  tramped  up  and  down  the  United 
States  of  America.  On  our  return  to  Norfolk  she  broke 
loose  at  midnight,  slipped  into  the  town,  took  up  the 
trees  on  the  Boulevard  and  strewed  them  flat,  went  into 
the  market,  broke  into  a  vegetable  shop,  munched  the 
entire  stock,  next  to  a  coachmaker's,  took  off  a  carriage- 
wheel,  opened  the  door,  stripped  the  cushions,  and  we 
found  her  eating  the  stuffing. 

One  day  at  noon  we  found  ourselves  fourteen  miles 
from  the  town,  I  forget  its  name,  we  had  to  play  in  that 
very  night.  Mr.  Gallott  had  gone  on  to  rehearse,  etc., 
and  it  behooved  us  to  be  marching  after  him.  At  this 
juncture,  old  Tom,  being  rather  drunk,  feels  a  strong  de- 
sire to  be  quite  drunk,  and  refuses  to  stir  from  his  brandy 
and  water.  Our  exchequer  was  in  no  condition  to  be 
trifled  with  thus :  if  Elliot  &  Co.  became  helpless  for  an 
hour  or  two,  we  should  arrive  too  late  for  the  night's 
performance,  and  Djek  eating  her  head  off  all  the  while. 
I  coaxed  and  threatened  our  two  brandy  sponges,  but  in 
vain ;  they  stuck  and  sucked.  I  was  in  despair,  and,  be- 
ing in  despair,  came  to  a  desperate  resolution :  I  determ- 
ined to  try  and  master  her  myself  then  and  there,  and  to 
defy  these  drunkards. 

I  told  Pippin  my  project.  He  started  back  aghast. 
He  viewed  me  in  the  light  of  a  madman.  "  Are  you 


302  JACK   OF    ATJ.   TBADES. 

tired  of  your  life  ?"  said  he.  But  I  was  inflexible.  Seven 
Dials'  pluck  was  up.  I  was  enraged  with  my  drunkards, 
and  I  was  tired  of  waiting  so  many  years  the  slave  of  a 
quadruped  whose  master  was  a  brute. 

Elephants  are  driven  with  a  rod  of  steel  sharpened  at 
the  end ;  about  a  foot  from  the  end  of  this  weapon  is  a 
large  hook ;  by  sticking  this  hook  into  an  elephant's  ear, 
and  pulling  it,  you  make  her  sensible  which  way  you 
want  her  to  go,  and  persuade  her  to  comply. 

Armed  with  this  tool,  I  walked  up  to  Djek's  shed,  and, 
in  the  most  harsh  and  brutal  voice  I  could  command, 
bade  her  come  out.  She  moved  in  the  shed,  but  hesi- 
tated. I  repeated  the  command  still  more  repulsively, 
and  out  she  came  toward  me  very  slowly. 

With  beasts  such  as  lions,  tigers,  and  elephants,  great 
promptitude  is  the  thing.  Think  for  them !  don't  give 
them  time  to  think,  or  their  thoughts  may  be  evil.  I  had 
learned  this  much,  so  I  introduced  myself  by  driving  the 
steel  into  Djek's  ribs,  and  then  hooking  her  ear,  while 
Pippin  looked  down  from  a  first  story  window.  If  Djek 
had  known  how  my  heart  was  beating  she  would  have 
killed  me  then  and  there ;  but,  observing  no  hesitation 
on  my  part,  she  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
walked  with  me  like  a  lamb.  I  found  myself  alone  with 
her  on  the  road,  and  fourteen  miles  of  it  before  us.  It 
was  a  serious  situation,  but  I  was  ripe  for  it  now.  All 
the  old  women's  stories  and  traditions  about  an  elephant's 
character  had  been  driven  out  of  me  by  experience  and 
washed  out  with  blood.  I  had  fathomed  Elliot's  art.  I 
had  got  what  the  French  call  the  riddle-key  of  Made- 
moiselle Djek,  and  that  key  was  "  steel !" 

On  we  marched,  the  best  of  friends.  There  were  a 
number  of  little  hills  on  the  road,  and  as  we  mounted 
one,  a  figure  used  to  appear  behind  us  on  the  crest  of  the 
last  between  us  and  the  sky :  this  was  the  gallant  Pippin, 
solicitous  for  his  friend's  fate,  but  desirous  of  not  partak- 
ing it  if  adverse.  And  still  the  worthy  Djek  and  I 


JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES.  303 

marched  on  the  best  of  friends.  About  a  mile  out  of  the 
town  she  put  out  her  trunk  and  tried  to  curl  it  round  me 
in  a  caressing  way.  I  met  this  overture  by  driving  the 
steel  into  her  till  the  blood  squirted  out  of  her.  If  I  had 
not,  the  syren  would  have  killed  me  in  the  course  of  the 
next  five  minutes.  Whenever  she  relaxed  her  speed  I 
drove  the  steel  into  her.  When  the  afternoon  sun  smiled 
gloriously  on  us  and  the  poor  thing  felt  nature  stir  in  her 
heart,  and  began  to  frisk  in  her  awful  clumsy  way, 
pounding  the  great  globe,  I  drove  the  steel  into  her ;  if 
I  had  not,  I  should  not  be  here  to  relate  this  sprightly 
narrative. 

Meantime,  at ,  her  stage-manager  and  financier 

were  in  great  distress  and  anxiety ;  four  o'clock,  and  no 
elephant*  At  last  they  got  so  frightened,  they  came  out 
to  meet  us,  and  presently,  to  their  amazement  and  de- 
light, Djek  strode  up  with  her  new  general.  Their  ec- 
stasy was  great  to  think  that  the  whole  business  was  no 
longer  at  a  drunkard's  mercy.  "  But  how  did  you  man- 
age ?  How  ever  did  ye  win  her  heart  ?"  "  With  this," 
said  I,  and  showed  them  the  bloody  steel. 

We  had  not  been  in  the  town  half  an  hour  before  Tom 
and  George  came  in.  They  were  not  so  drunk  but  what 
they  trembled  for  their  situations  after  my  exploit,  and 
rolled  and  zigzagged  after  us  as  fast  as  they  could. 

By  these  means  I  rose  from  mademoiselle's  slave  to  be 
her  friend  and  companion. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THIS  feat  kept  my  two  drunkards  in  better  order,  and 
revived  my  own  dormant  ambition.  I  used  now  to  visit 
her  by  myself,  steel  in  hand,  to  feed  her,  etc.,  and  scrape 
acquaintance  with  her  by  every ^means — steel  in  hand. 
One  day  I  was  feeding  her,  when  suddenly  I  thought  a 
house  had  fallen  on  me.  I  felt  myself  crashing  against 


304  JACK   OP   ALL  TEADES. 

the  door,  and  there  I  was  lying  upon  it  in  the  passage 
with  all  the  breath  driven  clean  out  of  my  body.  Pip- 
pin came  and  lifted  me  up  and  carried  me  into  the  air. 
I  thought  I  should  have  died  before  breath  could  get  into 
my  lungs  again.  She  had  done  this  with  a  push  from 
the  thick  end  of  her  proboscis.  After  a  while  I  came  to. 
I  had  no  sooner  recovered  my  breath  than  I  ran  into  the 
stable,  and  came  back  with  a  pitchfork.  Pippin  saw  my 
intention,  and  implored  me,  for  Heaven's  sake,  not  to.  I 
would  not  listen  to  him :  he  flung  his  arms  round  me.  I 
threatened  to  turn  the  fork  on  him  if  he  did  not  let  me  go. 

"  Hark !"  said  he ;  and,  sure  enough,  there  she  was 
snorting  and  getting  up  her  rage.  "  I  know  all  about 
that,"  said  I ;  "  my  death-warrant  is  drawn  up,  and  if  I 
don't  strike  it  will  be  signed.  This  is  how  she  has  felt 
her  way  with  all  of  them  before  she  has  killed  them.  I 
have  but  one  chance  of  life,"  said  I,  "  and  I  won't  throw 
it  away  without  a  struggle."  I  opened  the  door,  and, 
with  a  mind  full  of  misgivings,  I  walked  quickly  up  to 
her.  I  did  not  hesitate  to  raise  the  question  which  of  us 
two  was  to  suffer,  I  knew  that  would  not  do.  I  sprang 
upon  her  like  a  tiger,  and  drove  the  pitchfork  into  her 
trunk.  She  gave  a  yell  of  dismay  and  turned  a  little 
from  me ;  I  drove  the  fork  into  her  ear. 

Then  came  out  her  real  character. 

She  wheeled  round,  ran  her  head  into  a  corner,  stuck 
out  her  great  buttocks,  and  trembled  all  over  like  a  leaf. 
I  stabbed  her  with  all  my  force  for  half  an  hour  till  the 
blood  poured  out  of  every  square  foot  of  her  huge  body, 
and,  during  the  operation,  she  would  have  crept  into  a 
nutshell  if  she  could.  I  filled  her  as  full  of  holes  as  a 
cloved  orange. 

The  blood  that  trickled  out  of  her  saved  mine ;  and, 
for  the  first  time,  I  walked  out  of  her  shambles  her 
master. 

One  year  and  six  months  after  we  had  landed  at  New 
York  to  conquer  another  hemisphere,  we  turned  tail  and 


JACK   OF   ALL   TRADES.  305 

sailed  for  England  again.  We  had  a  prosperous  voyage 
with  the  exception  of  one  accident.  George  Hinde,  from 
incessant  brandy,  had  delirium  tremens,  and  one  night, 
in  a  fit  of  it,  he  had  just  sense  enough  to  see  that  he  was 
hardly  to  be  trusted  with  the  care  of  himself.  "John," 
said  he  to  me,  "  tie  me  to  this  mast,  hand  and  foot."  I 
demurred ;  but  he  begged  me  for  Heaven's  sake,  so  I 
bound  him  hand  and  foot  as  per  order.  This  done,  some 
one  called  me  down  below,  and  while  I  was  there  it  seems 
George  got  very  uncomfortable,  and  began  to  halloo  and 
complain.  Up  comes  the  captain — sees  a  man  lashed  to 
the  mast.  "  What  game  is  this  ?"  says  he.  "  It  is  that 
little  blackguard  John,"  says  Hinde;  "he  caught  me 
sleeping  against  the  mast,  and  took  a  mean  advantage ; 
do  loose  me,  captain !"  The  captain  made  sure  it  was  a 
sea-jest,  and  loosed  him  with  his  own  hands.  "  Thank 
you,  captain,"  says  George,  "  you  are  a  good  fellow.  God 
bless  you  all!"  and  with  these  words  he  ran  aft  and 
jumped  into  the  sea.  A  Yankee  sailor  made  a  grab  at 
him  and  just  touched  his  coat,  but  it  was  too  late  to  save 
him,  and  we  were  going  before  the  wind  ten  knots  an 
hour.  Thus  George  Hinde  fell  by  brandy ;  his  kindred 
spirit,  old  Tom,  seemed  ready  to  follow,  without  the  help 
of  water,  salt  or  fresh.  This  man's  face  was  now  a  uni- 
form color,  white,  with  a  scarce  perceptible  bluish-yel- 
lowish tinge.  He  was  a  moving  corpse. 

Drink  forever !  it  makes  men  thieves,  murderers,  asses, 
and  paupers ;  but  what  about  that,  so  long  as  it  sends 
them  to  an  early  grave  with  "  beast"  for  their  friends  to 
write  over  their  tomb-stones,  unless  they  have  a  mind  to 
tell  lies  in  a  church-yard,  and  that  is  a  common  trick. 

We  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames. 

Some  boats  boarded  us  with  fresh  provisions  and  deli- 
cacies ;  among  the  rest,  one  I  had  not  tasted  for  many  a 
day :  it  is  called  soft-tommy  at  sea,  and  on  land  bread. 
The  merchant  stood  on  tiptoe  and  handed  a  loaf  toward 
me,  and  I  leaned  over  the  bulwarks  and  stretched  down 


306  JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES. 

to  him  with  a  shilling  in  my  hand.  But,  as  ill  luck  would 
have  it,  the  shilling  slipped  from  my  fingers  and  fell.  If 
it  had  been  some  men's  it  would  have  fallen  into  the 
boat,  other's  into  the  sea,  slap ;  but  it  was  mine,  and  so 
it  fell  on  the  boat's  very  rim,  and  then  danced  to  its  own 
music  into  the  water.  I  looked  after  it  in  silence;  a 
young  lady,  with  whom  I  had  made  some  little  acquaint- 
ance during  the  voyage,  happened  to  be  at  my  elbow, 
and  she  laughed  most  merrily  as  the  shilling  went  down. 
I  remember  being  astonished  that  she  laughed.  The 
man  still  held  out  the  bread,  but  I  shook  my  head.  "  I 
must  go  without  now,"  said  I ;  the  young  lady  was  quite 
surprised.  "Why,  it  is  worth  a  guinea,"  cried  she. 
"Yes,  miss,"  said  I,  sheepishly,  "but  we  can't  always 
have  what  we  like,  you  see ;  I  ought  to  have  held  my 
shilling  tighter." 

"  Your  shining,"  cries  she.  "  Oh !"  and  she  dashed 
her  hand  into  her  pocket  and  took  out  her  purse,  and  I 
could  see  her  beautiful  white  fingers  tremble  with  eager- 
ness as  they  dived  among  the  coin.  She  soon  bought 
the  loaf,  and,  as  she  handed  it  to  me,  I  happened  to  look 
in  her  face,  and  her  cheek  was  red  and  her  eyes  quite 
brimming.  Her  quick  woman's  heart  had  told  her  the 
truth,  that  it  was  a  well-dressed  and  tolerably  well-be- 
haved man's  last  shilling,  and  he  returning  after  years  of 
travel  to  his  native  land. 

I  am  sure,  until  the  young  lady  felt  for  me,  I  thought 
nothing  of  it ;  I  had  been  at  my  last  shilling  more  than 
once.  But  when  I  saw  she  thought  it  hard,  I  began  to 
think  it  was  hard,  and  I  remember  the  water  came  into 
my  own  eyes.  Heaven  bless  her,  and  may  she  never 
want  a  shilling  in  her  pocket,  nor  a  kind  heart  near  her 
to  show  her  the  world  is  not  all  made  of  stone. 

We  had  no  money  to  pay  our  passage,  and  we  found 
Mr.  Yates  somewhat  embarrassed.  We  had  cost  him  a 
thousand  or  two,  and  no  return ;  so  while  he  wrote  to 
Mons.  Huguet,  that  came  to  pass  in  England  which  we 
had  always  just  contrived  to  staye  off  abroad. 


JACK   OP   ALL  TRADES.  307 

The  elephant  was  pawned. 

And  now  I  became  of  use  to  the  proprietors.  I  ar- 
ranged with  the  mortgagees,  and  they  made  the  spout  a 
show-place.  I  used  to  exhibit  her  and  her  tricks,  and 
with  the  proceeds  I  fed  her,  and  Elliot,  and  myself. 

We  had  been  three  weeks  in  pledge,  when,  one  fine 
morning,  as  I  was  showing  off  seated  on  the  elephant's 
back,  I  heard  a  French  exclamation  of  surprise  and  joy ; 
I  looked  down,  and  there  was  M.  Huguet.  I  came  down 
to  him,  and  he,  whose  quick  eye  saw  a  way  through  me 
out  of  drunken  Elliot,  gave  a  loose  to  his  feelings,  and 
embraced  me  &  la  Franchise,  "  which  made  the  common 
people  very  much  to  admire,"  as  the  song  has  it ;  also  a 
polite  howl  of  derision  greeted  our  Continental  affection. 
H.  Huguet  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  we  got  out 
of  limbo,  and  were  let  loose  upon  suffering  humanity 
once  more. 

They  talk  as  if  English  gold  did  every  thing ;  but  it 
was  French  gold  bought  us  off,  I  know  that,  for  I  saw  it 
come  out  of  his  pocket. 

As  soon  as  we  were  redeemed  we  took  an  engagement 
at  Astley's,  and,  during  this  engagement,  cadaverous 
Tom,  finding  we  could  master  her,  used  to  attend  less 
and  less  to  her,  and  more  and  more  to  brandy. 

A  certain  baker,  who  brought  her  loaves  every  morn- 
ing for  breakfast,  used  to  ask  me  to  let  him  feed  her 
himself.  He  admired  her,  and  took  this  way  of  making 
her  fond  of  him.  One  day  I  had  left  these  two  friends 
and  their  loaves  together  for  a  minute,  when  I  heard  a 
fearful  cry.  I  knew  the  sound  too  well  by  this  time,  and, 
as  I  ran  back,  I  had  the  sense  to  halloo  at  her :  this  saved 
the  man's  life.  At  the  sound  of  my  voice  she  dropped 
him  from  a  height  of  about  twelve  feet,  and  he  rolled 
away  like  a  ball  of  worsted.  I  dashed  in,  up  with  the 
pitchfork,  and  into  her  like  lightning,  and,  while  the 
blood  was  squirting  out  of  her  from  a  hundred  little 
prong-holes,  the  poor  baker  limped  away. 


308  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

Any  gentleman  or  lady  who  wishes  to  know  how  a 
man  feels  when  seized  by  an  elephant,  preparatory  to  be- 
ing squelched,  can  consult  this  person ;  he  is  a  respect- 
able tradesman ;  his  name  is  Johns ;  he  lives  near  Ast- 
ley's  Theatre,  or  used  to,  and  for  obvious  reasons  can  tell 
you  this  one  anecdote  out  of  many  such  better  than  I 
can ;  that  is  if  he  has  not  forgotten  it,  and  I  dare  say  he 
hasrit — ask  him ! 

After  Astley's,  Drury  Lane  engaged  us  to  play  second 
to  the  Lions  of  Mysore ;  rather  a  down-come ;  but  we 
went.  In  this  theatre  we  behaved  wonderfully.  Not- 
withstanding the  number  of  people  continually  buzzing 
about  us,  we  kept  our  temper,  and  did  not  smash  a  single 
one  of  these  human  gnats,  so  trying  to  our  little  female 
irritability  and  feeble  nerves.  The  only  thing  we  did 
wrong  was,  we  broke  through  a  granite  mountain  and 
fell  down  on  to  the  plains,  and  hurt  our  knee,  and  broke 
one  super — only  one. 

The  Lions  of  Mysore  went  a  starring  to  Liverpool,  and 
we  accompanied  them.  While  we  were  there  the  chol- 
era broke  out  in  England,  and  M.  Huguet  summoned  us 
hastily  to  France.  We  brushed  our  hats,  put  on  our 
gloves,  and  walked  at  one  stretch  from  Liverpool  to 
Dover.  There  we  embarked  for  Boulogne :  Djek,  cadav- 
erous Tom,  wolf-skin-lamb  Pippin,  and  myself.  I  was 
now  in  Huguet's  service  at  fifty  francs  a  week  as  coad- 
jutor and  successor  of  cadaverous  Tom,  whose  demise 
was  hourly  expected  even  by  us  who  were  hardened  by 
use  to  his  appearance,  which  was  that  of  the  ghost  of 
delirium  tremens.  We  arrived  off  Boulogne  Pier ;  but 
there  we  were  boarded  by  men  in  uniforms  and  mus- 
taches, and  questions  put  about  the  cholera,  which  dis- 
ease the  civic  authorities  of  Boulogne  were  determined 
to  keep  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  The  captain's 
answer  proving  satisfactory,  we  were  allowed  to  run  into 
the  port. 

In  landing  any  where  Djek  and  her  attendants  had  al- 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  309 

ways  to  wait  till  the  other  passengers  had  got  clear,  and 
we  did  so  on  this  occasion.  At  length  our  turn  came ; 
but  we  had  no  sooner  crossed  the  gangway  and  touched 
French  ground  than  a  movement  took  place  on  the  quay, 
and  a  lot  of  bayonets  bristled  in  our  faces,  and  "  Halte 
Ik!"  was  the  word.  We  begged  an  explanation;  in 
answer,  an  officer  glared  with  eyes  like  saucers,  and 
pointed  with  his  finger  at  Elliot.  The  truth  flashed  on 
us.  The  Frenchmen  were  afraid  of  cholera  coming  over 
from  England,  and  here  was  a  man  who  looked  plague, 
cholera,  or  death  himself  in  person.  We  remonstrated 
through  an  interpreter,  but  Tom's  face  was  not  to  be  re- 
futed by  words.  Some  were  for  sending  us  back  home 
to  so  diseased  a  country  as  this  article  must  have  come 
out  of;  but  milder  measures  prevailed.  They  set  apart 
for  our  use  a  little  corner  of  the  quay,  and  there  they 
roped  us  in  and  sentineled  us.  And  so  for  four  days,  in 
the  polished  kingdom  of  France,  we  dwelt  in  a  hut  ruder 
far  than  any  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio.  Prink  forever ! 
At  last,  as  Tom  Coffin  got  neither  a  worse  nor  a  better 
color,  they  listened  to  reason,  and  let  us  loose  upon  the 
nation  at  large,  and  away  we  tramped  for  Paris. 

Tunes  were  changed  with  us  in  one  respect :  we  no 
longer  marched  to  certain  victory ;  our  long  ill-success 
in  America  had  lessened  our  arrogance,  and  we  crept 
along  toward  Paris.  But,  luckily  for  us,  we  had  now  a 
presiding  head,  and  a  good  one.  The  soul  of  business  is 
puffing,  and  no  man  puffed  better  than  our  chief,  M. 
Huguet.  Half  way  between  Boulogne  and  Paris  we 
were  met  by  a  cavalier  carrying  our  instructions  how  we 
were  to  enter  Paris ;  and,  arrived  at  St.  Denis,  instead 
of  going  straight  on,  we  skirted  the  town,  and  made  our 
formal  entry  by  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  and  the  Arch  of 
Triumph.  Huguet  had  come  to  terms  with  Franconi, 
and,  to  give  Djek's  engagement  more  importance,  Fran- 
coni's  whole  troop  were  ordered  out  to  meet  us  and 
escort  us  in.  They  paraded  up  and  down  the  Champs 


310  JACK   OF   ALL  TKADES. 

Elysees  first,  to  excite  attention  and  inquiry,  and,  when 
the  public  were  fairly  agog,  our  cavalcade  formed  out- 
side the  barrier,  and  came  glittering  and  prancing  through 
the  arch.  An  elephant  has  her  ups  and  downs  like  the 
rest.  Djek,  the  despised  of  Kentucky  and  Virginia,  burst 
on  Paris  the  centre  of  a  shining  throng.  Franconi's 
bright  amazons  and  exquisite  cavaliers  rode  to  and  fro 
our  line,  carrying  sham  messages  with  earnest  faces ; 
Djek  was  bedecked  with  ribbons,  and  seemed  to  tread 
more  majestically,  and  our  own  hearts  beat  higher,  as, 
amid  grace,  and  beauty,  and  pomp,  sun  shining — hats 
waving — feathers  bending — mob  cheering — trumpets 
crowing — and  flints  striking  fire,  we  strode  proudly  into 
the  great  city,  the  capital  of  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THESE  were  bright  days  to  me.  I  was  set  over  old 
Tom — fancy  that;  and  my  salary  doubled  his.  I  had 
fifty  francs  a  week,  and  cleared  as  much  more  by  show- 
ing her  privately  in  her  stable. 

Money  melts  in  London — it  evaporates  in  Paris.  Pip- 
pin was  a  great  favorite  both  with  men  and  women  be- 
hind the  scenes  at  Franconi's.  He  introduced  me  to 
charming  companions  of  both  sexes;  gayety  reigned, 
and  tin  and  morals  "  made  themselves  air,  into  which 
they  vanished,"  Shakspeare. 

Toward  the  close  of  her  engagement  Djek  made  one 
of  her  mistakes ;  she  up  with  her  rightful  heir  and  broke 
his  ribs  against  the  side  scenes. 

We  nearly  had  to  stop  her  performances;  we  could 
not  mend  our  rightful  heir  by  next  night,  and  substitutes 
did  not  pour  in.  "  I  won't  go  on  with  her,"  "  I  won't 
play  with  her,"  was  a  cry  that  even  the  humblest  and 
neediest  began  to  raise.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  she  was 
not  under  my  superintendence  when  this  rightful  heir 
oarnc  to  erricf. 


JACK   OF    ALT,   TRADES.  311 

And  now  the  cholera  came  to  Paris,  and  theatricals  of 
all  sorts  declined,  for  there  was  a  real  tragedy  playing  in 
every  street.  The  deaths  were  very  numerous  and  aw- 
fully sudden ;  people  were  struck  down  in  the  streets  as 
if  by  lightning ;  gloom  and  terror  hung  over  all. 

When  this  terrible  disease  is  better  known  it  will  be 
found  to  be  of  the  nature  of  strong  poison,  and  its  cure, 
if  any,  will  be  strychnine,  belladonna,  or,  likelier  still, 
some  quick  and  deadly  mineral  poison  that  kills  the 
healthy  with  cramps  and  discoloration. 

In  its  rapid  form  cholera  is  not  to  be  told  from  quick 
poison,  and  hence  sprung  up  among  the  lower  order  in 
Paris  a  notion  that  wholesale  poisoning  was  on  foot. 

Pippin  and  I  were  standing  at  the  door  of  a  wine-shop 
waiting  for  our  change.  His  wild  appearance  attracted 
first  one  and  then  another.  Little  knots  of  people  col- 
lected and  eyed  us ;  then  they  began  to  talk  and  mur- 
mur, and  cast  suspicious  glances.  "  Come  away,"  said 
Pippin,  rather  hastily.  We  walked  off;  they  walked 
after  us,  increasing  like  a  snowball,  and  they  murmured 
louder  and  louder.  I  asked  Pippin  what  the  fools  were 
gabbling  about.  He  told  me  they  suspected  us  of  being 
the  poisoners.  At  this  I  turned  round,  and,  being  five 
feet  four,  and  English,  was  for  punching  some  of  their 
heads  ;  but  the  athletic  pacific  Italian  would  not  hear  of  - 
it,  much  less  co-operate;  and  now  they  surrounded  us 
just  at  the  corner  of  one  of  the  bridges,  lashing  them- 
selves into  a  fury,  and  looking  first  at  us,  and  then  at  the 
river  below.  Pippin  was  as  white  as  death,  and  I  thought 
it  was  all  up  myself,  when  by  good  luck  a  troop  of  mount- 
ed gendarmes  issued  from  the  palace.  Pippin  hailed  them ; 
they  came  up,  and,  after  hearing  both  sides,  took  us  un- 
der their  protection,  and  off  we  marched  between  two 
files  of  cavalry,  followed  by  the  curses  of  a  superficial 
populace.  Extremes  don't  do.  Pippin  was  the  color  of 
ink,  Elliot  of  paper ;  both  their  mugs  fell  under  suspicion, 
and  nearly  brought  us  to  grief. 


312  JACK   OF   ALL  TBADES. 

Franconi  closed,  and  Djek,  Huguet,  and  Co.  started  on 
a  provincial  tour. 

They  associated  themselves  on  this  occasion  with  Mich- 
elet,  who  had  some  small  wild  animals,  such  as  lions,  tigers, 
and  leopards. 

Our  first  move  was  to  Versailles.  Here  we  built  a 
show-place  and  exhibited  Djek,  not  as  an  actress,  but  as 
a  private  elephant,  in  which  capacity  she  did  the  usual 
elephant  business,  besides  a  trick  or  two  that  most  of 
them  have  not  brains  enough  for,  whereof  anon. 

Michelet  was  the  predecessor  of  Van  Amburgh  and 
Carter,  and  did  every  thing  they  do  a  dozen  years  be- 
fore they  were  ever  heard  of;  used  to  go  into  the  lions' 
den,  pull  them  about,  and  put  his  head  down  their  throats, 
and  their  paws  round  his  neck,  etc.,  etc. 

I  observed  this  man,  and  learned  something  from  him. 
Besides  that  general  quickness  and  decision  which  is 
necessary  with  wild  animals,  I  noticed  that  he  was  al- 
ways on  the  look-out  for  mischief,  and  always  punished 
it  before  it  came.  Another  point,  he  always  attacked 
the  offending  part,  and  so  met  the  evil  in  front ;  for  in- 
stance, if  one  of  his  darlings  curled  a  lip  and  showed  a 
tooth,  he  hit  him  over  the  mouth  that  moment  and  no- 
where else ;  if  one  elongated  a  claw,  he  hit  him  over  the 
foot  like  lightning.  He  read  the  whole  crew  as  I  had 
learned  to  read  Djek,  and  conquered  their  malice  by 
means  of  that  marvelous  cowardice  which  they  all  show 
if  they  can  see  no  sign  of  it  in  you. 

There  are  no  two  ways  with  wild  beasts.  If  there  is 
a  single  white  spot  in  your  heart,  leave  them,  for  your 
life  will  be  in  danger  every  moment.  If  you  can  despise 
them,  and  keep  the  rod  always  in  sight,  they  are  your 
humble  servants ;  nobody  more  so. 

Our  exhibition,  successful  at  first,  began  to  flag;  so 
then  the  fertile  brain  of  M.  Huguet  had  to  work.  He 
proposed  to  his  partner  to  stand  a  tiger  and  he  would 
stand  a  bull,  and  "  we  will  have  a  joint-stock  fight  like 


JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES.  313 

the  King  of  Oude."  Michelet  had  his  misgivings,  but 
Huguet  overruled  him.  That  ingenious  gentleman  then 
printed  bills  advertising  for  a  certain  day  a  fight  between 
a  real  Bengal  tiger  and  a  ferocious  bull  that  had  just 
gored  a  man  to  death.  This  done,  he  sent  me  round  the 
villages  to  find  and  hire  a  bull.  "  Mind  you  get  a  mild 
one,  or  I  shall  have  to  pay  for  a  hole  in  the  tiger's  leath- 
er." I  found  one  which  the  owner  consented  to  risk  for 
so  much  money  down,  and  the  damage  he  should  sustain 
from  tiger  to  be  valued  independently  by  two  farmers 
after  the  battle. 

The  morning  of  the  fight  Pippin  and  I  went  for  our 
bull,  and  took  him  out  of  the  yard  toward  Versailles ; 
but  when  we  had  gone  about  two  hundred  yards,  he  be- 
came uneasy,  looked  round,  sniffed  about,  and  finally 
turned  round  spite  of  all  our  efforts,  and  paced  home 
again.  We  remonstrated  with  the  proprietor.  "Oh," 
said  he,  "  I  forgot ;  he  won't  start  without  the  wench." 
So  the  wench  in  question  was  sent  for  (his  companion 
upon  amatory  excursions).  She  went  with  us,  and  launch- 
ed us  toward  Versailles.  This  done,  she  returned  home, 
and  we  marched  on ;  but  before  we  had  gone  a  furlong 
Taurus  showed  symptoms  of  uneasiness ;  these  increased, 
and  at  last  he  turned  round  and  walked  tranquilly  home. 
We  hung  upon  him,  thrashed  him,  and  bullied  him,  all  to 
no  purpose.  His  countenance  was  placid,  but  his  soul 
resolved,  and — he  walked  home,  slowly,  but  inevitably ; 
so,  then,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  let  him  have  the 
wench  all  the  way  to  the  tiger,  and  she  would  not  go  to 
Versailles  till  she  had  put  on  some  new  finery — short 
waist,  coal-scuttle  bonnet,  etc.  More  time  lost  with  that ; 
and,  when  we  did  arrive  in  the  arena,  the  spectators  were 
tired  of  waiting.  The  bull  stood  in  the  middle,  confused 
and  stupid.  The  tiger  was  in  his  cage  in  a  corner ;  we 
gave  him  time  to  observe  his  prey,  and  then  we  opened 
the  door  of  his  cage. 

A  shiver  ran  through  the  audience  (they  wore  all  seat- 
ed in  boxes  looking  down  on  the  area). 


314  JACK    OF    AT.T.   TRADES. 

A  moment  more,  and  the  furious  animal  would  spring 
upon  his  victim,  and  his  fangs  and  claws  sink  deep  into 
its  neck,  etc.,  etc.  Vide  books  of  travels. 

One  moment  succeeded  to  another,  and  nothing  oc- 
curred. The  ferocious  animal  lay  quiet  in  his  cage,  and 
showed  no  sign ;  so  then  we  poked  the  ferocious  animal. 
He  snarled,  but  would  not  venture  out.  When  this  had 
lasted  a  long  time,  the  spectators  began  to  doubt  his 
ferocity,  and  to  goose  the  ferocious  animal.  So  I  got  a 
red-hot  iron  and  nagged  him  behind.  He  gave  a  yell 
of  dismay,  and  went  into  the  arena  like  a  shot.  He  took 
no  notice  of  the  bull.  All  he  thought  of  was  escape 
from  the  horrors  that  surrounded  him.  Winged  by  ter- 
ror, he  gave  a  tremendous  spring,  and  landed  his  fore- 
paws  on  the  boxes,  stuck  fast,  and  glared  in  at  the  spec- 
tators. They  rushed  out  yelling.  He  dug  his  hind-claws 
into  the  wood-work,  and  by  slow  and  painful  degrees 
clambered  into  the  boxes.  When  he  got  in  the  young 
and  active  were  gone  home,  and  he  ran  down  the  stairs 
among  the  old  people  that  could  not  get  clear  so  quick 
as  the  rest.  He  was  so  frightened  at  the  people  that  he 
skulked  and  hid  himself  hi  a  corn-field,  and  the  people 
were  so  frightened  at  him  that  they  ran  home  and  lock- 
ed their  street  doors.  So  one  coward  made  many. 

They  thought  the  poor  wretch  had  attacked  them,  and 
the  journal  next  day  maintained  this  view  of  the  transac- 
tion, and  the  town  to  this  day  believes  it.  We  netted 
our  striped  coward  with  four  shutters,  and  kicked  him 
into  his  cage. 

The  bull  went  home  with  "the  wench,"  and  to  this 
day  his  thick  skull  has  never  comprehended  what  the 
deuce  he  went  to  Versailles  for. 

This  was  how  we  competed  with  Oriental  monarchs. 

We  marched  southward,  through  Orleans,  Tours,  etc., 
to  Bordeaux,  and  were  pretty  well  received  hi  all  these 
places  except  at  one  small  place  whose  name  I  forget. 
Here  they  hissed  her  out  of  the  town  at  sight.  It  turn- 


JACK   OF   ALL   TRADES.  315 

ed  out  she  had  been  there  before  and  pulverized  a  brush- 
maker,  a  popular  man  among  them. 

Soon  after  Bordeaux  she  had  words  with  the  lions. 
They,  in  their  infernal  conceit,  thought  themselves  more 
attractive  than  Djek.  It  is  vice  versa,  and  by  a  long 
chalk,  said  Djek  and  Co.  The  parties  growled  a  bit, 
then  parted  to  meet  no  more  in  this  world. 

From  Bordeaux  we  returned  by  another  route  to  Par- 
is ;  for  we  were  only  starring  it  in  the  interval  of  our  en- 
gagement as  an  actress  with  Franconi.  We  started  one 

morning  from with  light  hearts,  our  faces  turned 

toward  the  gay  city,  Elliot,  Pippin,  and  I.  Elliot  and  I 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  elephant,  Pippin  walking  some 
forty  yards  hi  the  rear.  He  never  trusted  himself  nearer 
*o  her  on  a  march. 

We  were  plodding  along  in  this  order,  when,  all  in  a 
moment,  without  reason  or  warning  of  any  sort,  she  spun 
round  between  us  on  one  heel  like  a  thing  turning  on  a 
pivot,  and  strode  back  like  lightning  at  Pippin.  He 
screamed  and  ran;  but,  before  he  could  take  a  dozen 
steps,  she  was  upon  him,  and  struck  him  down  with  her 
trunk  and  trampled  upon  him ;  she  then  wheeled  round 
and  trudged  back  as  if  she  had  merely  stopped  to  brush 
off  a  fly  or  pick  up  a  stone.  After  the  first  moment  of 
stupefaction,  both  Elliot  and  I  had  run  after  her  with  all 
the  speed  we  had ;  but  so  rapid  was  her  movement,  and 
so  instantaneous  the  work  of  death,  that  we  only  met  her 
on  her  return  from  her  victim.  I  will  not  shock  the 
reader  by  describing  the  state  in  which  we  found  our 
poor  comrade ;  but  he  was  crushed  to  death.  He  never 
spoke,  and  I  believe  and  trust  he  never  felt  any  thing  for 
the  few  minutes  that  breath  lingered  in  his  body.  We 
kneeled  down  and  raised  him,  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he 
could  not  hear  us.  When  Djek  got  her  will  of  one  of 
us,  all  our  hope  used  to  be  to  see  the  man  die  ;  and  so  it 
was  with  poor  dear  Pippin ;  mangled,  and  life  impossible, 
we  kneeled  down  and  prayed  to  God  for  his  death  ;  and, 


316  JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES. 

by  Heaven's  mercy,  I  think  in  about  four  minutes  from 
the  time  he  got  his  death-blow  his  spirit  passed  away, 
and  our  well-beloved  comrade  and  friend  was  nothing 
now  but  a  lump  of  clay  on  our  hands. 

We  were  some  miles  from  any  town  or  village,  and  did 
not  know  what  to  do,  and  how  to  take  him  to  a  resting- 
place.  At  last  we  were  obliged  to  tie  the  body  across 
the  proboscis,  and  cover  it  as  well  as  we  could,  and  so 
we  made  his  murderess  carry  him  to  the  little  town  of 
La  Palice — yes,  La  Palice.  Here  we  stopped,  and  a  sort 
of  inquest  was  held,  and  M.  Huguet  attended  and  told 
the  old  story ;  said  the  man  had  been  cruel  to  her,  and 
she  had  put  up  with  it  as  long  as  she  could.  Verdict — 
"Served  him  right;"  and  so  we  lied  over  our  poor 
friend's  murdered  body,  and  buried  him  with  many  sighs« 
in  the  little  church-yard  of  La  Palice,  and  then  trudged 
on,  sad  and  downcast,  toward  the  gay  capital. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

I  THUTK  a  lesson  is  to  be  learned  from  this  sad  story. 
Too  much  fear  is  not  prudence.  Had  poor  Pippin  walk- 
ed with  Elliot  and  me  alongside  the  elephant,  she  dared 
not  have  attacked  him.  But  through  fear  he  kept  forty 
yards  in  the  rear,  and  she  saw  a  chance  to  get  him  by 
himself;  and,  from  my  knowledge  of  her,  I  have  little 
doubt  she  had  meditated  this  attempt  for  months  before 
she  carried  it  out.  Poor  Pippin ! 

We  arrived  in  Paris  to  play  with  Franconi.  Now  it 
happened  to  be  inconvenient  to  Franconi  to  fulfill  his  en- 
gagement. He  accordingly  declined  us.  M.  Huguet  was 
angry — threatened  legal  proceedings.  Franconi  answer- 
ed, "  Where  is  Pippin  ?"  Huguet  shut  up.  Then  Fran- 
coni followed  suit ;  if  hard  pressed,  he  threatened  to  de- 
clare in  open  court  that  it  was  out  of  humanity  alone  he 
declined  to  fulfill  his  engagement.  This  stopped  M. 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  317 

Huguet's  mouth  altogether.  He  took  a  place  on  the 
Boulevard,  and  we  showed  her  and  her  tricks  at  three 
prices,  and  did  a  rattling  business.  Before  we  had  been 
a  fortnight  in  Paris  old  Tom  Elliot  died  at  the  Hospital 
Dubois,  and  I  became  her  vizier  at  a  salary  of  one  hund- 
red francs  per  week. 

Having  now  the  sole  responsibility,  I  watched  her  as 
you  would  a  powder-magazine  lighted  by  gas.  I  let  no- 
body but  M.  Huguet  go  near  her  in  my  absence.  This 
gentleman  continued  to  keep  her  sweet  on  him  with 
lumps  of  sugar,  and  to  act  as  her  showman  when  she  ex- 
hibited publicly. 

One  day  we  had  a  message  from  the  Tuileries,  and  we 
got  the  place  extra  clean ;  and  the  king's  children  paid 
her  a  visit — a  lot  of  little  chaps.  I  did  not  know  their 
names,  but  I  suppose  it  was  Prince  Joinville,  Aumale, 
and  cetera.  All  I  know  is  that  while  these  little  Louis 
Philippes  were  coaxing  her,  and  feeding  her,  and  cutting 
about  her,  and  sliding  down  her,  and  I  was  telling  them 
she  was  a  duck,  the  perspiration  was  running  down  my 
back  one  moment  and  cold  shivers  the  next,  and  I  thank- 
ed Heaven  devoutly  when  the  young  gents  went  back 
to  their  papa  and  mamma  and  no  bones  broken.  The 
young  gentlemen  reported  her  affability  and  my  lies  to 
the  king,  and  he  engaged  her  to  perform  gratis  in  the 
Champs  Elysees  during  the  three  days'  fete.  Fifteen 
hundred  francs  for  this. 

But  Huguet  was  penny  wise  and  pound  foolish  to 
agree,  for  it  took  her  gloss  off.  Showed  her  gratis  to 
half  the  city. 

Among  Djek's  visitors  came  one  day  a  pretty  young 
lady,  a  nursery  governess  to  some  nobleman's  children, 
whose  name  I  forget,  but  he  was  English.  The  children 
were  highly  amused  with  Djek,  and  quite  loth  to  go. 
The  young  lady,  who  had  a  smattering  of  English  as  I 
had  of  French,  put  several  questions  to  me.  I  answered 
them  more  polite  than  usual  on  account  of  her  being 


318  JACK    OF    ALL    TRADES. 

pretty,  and  I  used  a  privilege  I  had  and  gave  her  an 
order  for  free  admission  some  other  day.  She  came, 
with  only  one  child,  which  luckily  was  one  of  those  deep- 
ly meditative  ones  that  occur  but  rarely,  and  only  bring 
out  a  word  every  half  hour ;  so  mademoiselle  and  I  had 
a  chat,  which  I  found  so  agreeable  that  I  rather  neglect- 
ed the  general  public  for  her.  I  made  it  my  business  to 
learn  where  she  aired  the  children,  and,  one  vacant  morn- 
ing, dressed  in  the  top  of  the  fashion,  I  stood  before  her 
in  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries.  She  gave  a  half  start 
and  a  blush,  and  seemed  very  much  struck  with  astonish- 
ment at  this  rencounter.  She  was  a  little  less  astonished 
next  week  when  the  same  thing  happened,  but  still  she 
thought  these  coincidences  remarkable,  and  said  so.  In 

short,  I  paid  my  addresses  to  Mademoiselle .     She 

was  a  charming  brunette  from  Geneva,  greatly  my  supe- 
rior in  education  and  station.  I  was  perfectly  conscious 
of  this,  and  instantly  made  this  calculation :  "  All  the 
better  for  me  if  I  can  win  her."  But  the  reader  knows 
my  character  by  this  time,  and  must  have  observed  how 
large  a  portion  of  it  effrontery  forms.  I  wrote  to  her 
every  «day,  sometimes  in  the  French  language — no,  not 
in  the  French  language,  in  French  words.  She  some- 
times answered  in  English  words.  She  was  very  pretty 
and  very  interesting,  and  I  fancied  her.  When  a  man  is 
in  love  he  can  hardly  see"  difficulties.  I  pressed  her  to 
marry  me,  and  I  believed  she  would  consent.  When  I 
came  to  this  point  the  young  lady's  gayety  declined,  and 
when  I  was  painting  her  pictures  of  our  conjugal  happi- 
ness, she  used  to  sigh  instead  of  brightening  at  the  pic- 
ture. At  last  I  pressed  her  so  hard  that  she  consented 
to  write  to  Geneva  and  ask  her  parents'  consent  to  our 
union.  When  the  letter  went  I  was  in  towering  spirits. 
I  was  now  in  the  zenith  of  my  prosperity.  The  risks  I 
had  run  with  Djek  were  rewarded  by  a  heavy  salary  and 
the  post  of  honor  near  her,  and,  now  that  I  was  a  little 
weary  of  roaming  the  world  alone  with  an  elephant,  fate 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  319 

had  thrown  in  my  way  a  charming  companion  who  would 
cheer  the  weary  road. 

Dreams. 

The  old  people  at  Geneva  saw  my  position  with  an- 
other eye.  "He  is  a  servant  liable  to  lose  his  place  at 
any  moment  by  any  one  of  a  hundred  accidents,  and  his 
profession  is  a  discreditable  one:  why,  he  is  a  show- 
man." 

They  told  her  all  this  in  language  so  plain  that  she 
would  never  show  me  the  letter.  I  was  for  defying  their 
advice  and  authority,  but  she  would  not  hear  of  it.  I 
was  forced  to  temporize.  "  In  a  month's  time,"  said  I  to 
myself,  "  her  scruples  will  melt  away."  But  in  less  than 
a  fortnight  the  order  came  for  us  to  march  into  Flanders. 
I  communicated  this  cruel  order  to  my  sweetheart.  She 
turned  pale,  and  made  no  secret  of  her  attachment  to 
me,  and  of  the  pain  she  felt  at  parting.  Every  evening 
before  we  left  Paris  I  saw  her,  and  implored  her  to  trust 
herself  to  me  and  leave  Paris  as  my  wife.  She  used  to 
smile  at  my  pictures  of  wedded  happiness,  and  cry  the 
next  minute  because  she  dared  not  give  herself  and  me 
that  happiness;  but,  with  all  this,  she  was  firm,  and 
would  not  fly  hi  her  parents'  face. 

At  last  came  a  sad  and  bitter  hour :  hat  in  hand,  as 
the  saying  is,  I  made  a  last  desperate  endeavor  to  per- 
suade her  to  be  mine,  and  not  to  let  this  parting  take 
place  at  all.  She  was  much  agitated,  but  firm ;  and,  the 
more  I  said,  the  firmer  she  became.  So  at  last  I  grew 
frantic  and  reproached  her.  I  called  her  a  cold-hearted 
coquette,  and  we  parted  in  anger  and  despair. 

Away  into  the  wide  world  again,  not,  as  I  used  to 
start  on  these  pilgrimages,  with  a  stout  heart  and  iron 
nerves,  but  cold,  and  weary,  and  worn  out  before  the 
journey  had  begun.  As  we  left  Paris  behind  us  I  had 
but  one  feeling,  that  the  best  of  life  was  at  an  end  for 
me.  My  limbs  took  me  along  like  machinery,  but  my 
heart  was  a  lump  of  ice  inside  me,  and  I  would  have 


'3'20  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

thanked  any  man  for  knocking  me  on  the  head  and  end- 
ing the  monotonous  farce  of  my  existence ;  ay,  gentle- 
folks, even  a  poor  mechanic  can  feel  like  this  when  the 
desire  of  his  heart  is  balked  forever. 

Trudge !  trudge !  trudge !  forever  and  ever. 

Tramp !  tramp !  tramp !  forever  and  ever. 
.  A  man  gets  faint  and  weary  of  it  at  last,  and  there 
comes  a  time  when  he  pines  for  a  hearth-stone,  and  a 
voice  he  can  believe,  a  part,  at  least,  of  what  it  says,  and 
a  Sunday  of  some  sort  now  and  then ;  and  my  time  was 
come  to  long  for  these  things,  and  for  a  pretty  and  hon- 
est face  about  me  to  stand  for  the  one  bit  of  peace  and 
the  one  bit  of  truth  in  my  vagabond  charlatan  life. 

I  lost  my  appetite  and  sleep,  and  was  very  nearly  los- 
ing heart  altogether.  My  clothes  hung  about  me  like 
bags,  I  got  so  thin.  It  was  my  infernal  occupation  that 
cured  me,  after  all.  Djek  gave  me  no  time  even  for  de- 
spair. The  moment  I  became  her  sole  guardian  I  had 
sworn  on  my  knees  she  should  never  kill  another  man; 
judge  whether  I  had  to  look  sharp  after  her  to  keep  the 
biped  from  perjury  and  the  quadruped  from  murder.  I 
slept  with  her — rose  early — fed  her — walked  twenty 
miles  with  her,  or  exhibited  her  all  day,  sometimes  did 
both,  and  at  night  rolled  into  the  straw  beside  her  too 
deadly  tired  to  feel  all  my  unhappiness;  and  so,  after 
a  while,  time  and  toil  blunted  my  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment, and  I  trudged,  and  tramped,  and  praised  Djek's 
moral  qualities  in  the  old  routine.  Only  now  and  then, 
when  I  saw  the  country  lads  in  France  or  Belgium  going 
to  church  dressed  in  their  best  with  their  sweethearts, 
and  I  in  prison  in  the  stable  with  my  four-legged  hussy, 
waiting  perhaps  till  dark  to  steal  out  and  march  to  some 
fresh  town,  I  used  to  feel  as  heavy  as  lead  and  as  bitter 
as  wormwood,  and  wish  we  were  all  dead  together  by 
way  of  a  change. 

A  man  needs  a  stout  heart  to  go  through  the  world 
at  all,  but  most  of  all  he  needs  it  for  a  roving  life ;  don't 
you  believe  any  other,  no  matter  who  tells  you. 


JACK    OF    ALL   TKADES.  .  321 

With  this  brief  notice  of  my  feelings  I  pass  over  two 
months'  travel.  All  through  I  spare  the  reader  much, 
though  I  dare  say  he  doesn't  see  it. 

Sir,  the  very  names  of  the  places  I  have  visited  would 
fill  an  old-fashioned  map  of  Europe. 

Talk  of  Ulysses  and  his  travels!  he  never  saw  the 
tenth  part  of  what  I  have  gone  through. 

I  have  walked  with  Djek  farther  than  round  the  world 
during  the  eleven  years  I  have  trudged  beside  her :  it  is 
only  24,000  miles  round  the  world. 

After  a  year's  pilgrimage  we  found  ourselves  at  Don- 
cheray,  near  Sedan. 

Here  we  had  an  incident.  Mons.  Huguet  was  showing 
her  to  the  public  with  the  air  of  a  prince  and  in  his 
Mare'chal  of  France  costume,  glittering  with  his  theatric- 
al cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  He  was  not  particular 
what  he  put  on,  so  that  it  shone  and  looked  well.  He 
sent  me  for  something  connected  with  the  performance 
— a  pistol,  I  think.  I  had  hardly  ten  steps  to  go,  but 
during  the  time  I  was  out  of  her  sight  I  heard  a  man  cry 
out  and  the  elephant  snort.  I  ran  back  hallooing  as  I 
came.  As  I  ran  in  I  found  the  elephant  feeling  for  some- 
thing in  the  straw  with  her  foot,  and  the  people  rushing 
out  of  the  doors  in  dismay.  The  moment  she  saw  me 
she  affected  innocence,  but  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 
I  drew  out  from  the  straw  a  thing  you  would  have  taken 
for  a  scarecrow  or  a  bundle  of  rags.  It  was  my  master, 
M.  Huguet,  his  glossy  hat  battered,  his  glossy  coat  stain- 
ed and  torn,  and  his  arm  broken  in  two  places :  a  mo- 
ment more  and  her  foot  would  have  been  on  him,  and  his 
soul  crushed  out  of  his  body. 

The  people  were  surprised  when  they  saw  the  furious 
snorting  monster  creep  into  a  corner  to  escape  a  little 
fellow  five  .feet  four,  who  got  to  the  old  weapon,  pitch- 
fork, and  .drove  it  into  every  part  of  her  but  her  head. 
She  hid  that  in  the  corner  the  moment  she  saw  blood  in 
my  eye. 

02 


322  JACK    OF   ALL    TKADES. 

We  got  poor  M.  Huguet  to  bed,  and  a  doctor  from.the 
hospital  to  him,  and  a  sorrowful  time  he  had  of  it ;  and 
so,  after  standing  good  for  twelve  years,  lump  sugar  fell 
to  the  ground.  Pitchfork  held  good. 

At  night  more  than  a  hundred  people  came  to  see 
whether  I  was  really  so  hardy  as  to  sleep  with  this  fero- 
cious animal.  To  show  them  my  sense  of  her,  I  lay  down 
between  her  legs.  On  this  she  lifted  her  fore-feet  singly, 
and  with  the  utmost  care  and  delicacy  drew  them  back 
over  my  body. 

As  soon  as  M.  Huguet's  arm  was  set  and  doing  well, 
he  followed  us  (we  had  got  into  France  by  this  time), 
and  came  in  along  with  the  public  to  admire  us,  and,  to 
learn  how  the  elephant  stood  affected  toward  him  now, 
he  cried  out,  in  his  most  ingratiating  way — in  sugared 
tones — "Djek,  my  boy!  Djek!"  At  this  sound  Djek 
raised  a  roar  of  the  most  infernal  rage,  and  Huguet,  who 
knew  her  real  character  well  enough,  though  he  pretend- 
ed not  to,  comprehended  that  her  heart  was  now  set  upon 
his  extinction,  malgre'  twelve  years  of  lump  sugar. 

He  sent  for  me,  and  with  many  expressions  of  friend- 
ship offered  me  the  invaluable  animal  for  thirty  thousand 
francs.  I  declined  her  without  thanks.  "  Then  I  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  killing  her  to-morrow,"  said  the 
Frenchman,  "  and  what  will  become  of  your  salary,  mon 
pauvre  garc.  on  ?" 

In  short,  he  had  me  in  a  fix,  and  used  his  power.  I 
bought  her  of  him  for  20,000  francs,  to  be  paid  by  install- 
ments. I  gave  him  the  first  installment,  a  five-franc  piece, 
and  walked  out  of  the  wine-shop  her  sole  proprietor. 

The  sense  of  property  is  pleasant,  even  when  we  have 
not  paid  for  the  article. 

That  night  I  formed  my  plans.  There  was  no  time  to 
lose,  because  I  had  only  a  thousand  francs  in  the  world, 
and  she  ate  a  thousand  francs  a  week,  or  nearly.  I  de- 
termined to  try  Germany — a  poor  country,  but  one  which, 
being  quite  inland,  could  not  have  become  callous  to  an 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  323 

elephant,  perhaps  had  never  seen  one.  I  shall  never  for- 
get the  fine,  clear  morning  I  started  on  my  own  account. 
The  sun  was  just  rising,  the  birds  were  tuning,  and  all 
manner  of  sweet  smells  came  from  the  fields  and  the 
hedges.  Djek  seemed  to-  step  out  more  majestically  than 
when  she  was  another  man's :  my  heart  beat  high.  Elev- 
en years  ago  I  had  started  the  meanest  of  her  slaves.  I 
had  worked  slowly,  painfully,  but  steadily  up,  and  now  I 
was  actually  her  lord  and  master,  and  half  the  world  be- 
fore me  with  the  sun  shining  on  it. 

The  first  town  I  showed  her  at  as  mine  was  Verdun,  and 

the  next  day  I  wrote  to  Mademoiselle at  Paris  to 

tell  her  of  the  change  in  my  fortunes.  This  was  the  only 
letter  I  had  sent,  for  we  parted  bad  friends.  I  received 
a  kinder  answer  than  the  abrupt  tone  of  my  letter  de- 
served. She  congratulated  me,  and  thanked  me  for  re- 
membering that  whatever  good  fortune  befell  me  must 
give  her  particular  pleasure,  and  in  the  postscript  she 
told  me  she  was  just  about  to  leave  Paris  and  return  to 
her  parents  in  Switzerland. 

Djek  crossed  into  Prussia,  tramped  that  country,  and 
penetrated  into  the  heart  of  Germany.  As  I  had  hoped, 
she  descended  on  this  nation  with  all  the  charm  of  nov- 
elty, and  used  to  clear  the  copper*  out  of  a  whole  vil- 
lage. I  remember  early  in  this  trip  being  at  a  country 
inn.  I  saw  rustics,  male  and  female,  dressed  in  their  Sun- 
day clothes,  coming  over  the  hills  from  every  side  to  one 
point.  I  thought  there  must  be  a  fair  or  something.  I 
asked  the  landlord  what  they  were  all  coming  for.  He 
said,  "  Why,  you,  to  be  sure."  They  never  saw  such  a 
thing  in  their  lives,  and  never  will  again. 

In  fact,  at  one  or  two  small  places  we  were  stopped 
by  the  authorities,  who  had  heard  that  we  carried  more 
specie  out  of  little  towns  than  the  circulating  medium 
would  bear. 

*  Germany  is  mostly  made  of  copper.  A  bucketful  of  farthings 
was  a  common  thing  for  me  to  have  in  my  carriage. 


324  JACK    OF    ALL    TKADES. 

In  short,  my  first  coup  was  successful.  After  six 
months'  Germany,  Bavaria,  Prussia,  etc.,  I  returned  to 
the  Rhine  at  Strasbourg  with  eight  thousand  francs. 
During  all  this  time  she  never  hurt  a  soul,  I  watched  her 
so  fearfully  close.  So,  being  debarred  from  murder,  she 
tried  arson. 

At  a  place  in  Bavaria  her  shed  was  suddenly  observed 
to  be  in  flames,  and  we  saved  her  with  difficulty. 

The  cause  never  transpired  until  now,  but  I  saw  di- 
rectly how  it  had  been  done.  I  had  unwarily  left  my 
coat  in  her  way.  The  pockets  were  found  emptied  of  all 
their  contents,  among  which  was  a  lucifer-box,  fragments 
of  which  I  found  among  the  straw.  She  had  played  with 
this  in  her  trunk,  hammering  it  backward  and  forward 
against  her  knee,  dropping  the  lighted  matches  into  the 
straw,  when  they  stung  her,  and  very  nearly  roasted  her 
own  beef,  the  mischievous,  uneasy  devil. 

My  readers  will  not  travel  with  an  elephant,  but  busi- 
ness of  some  sort  will  fall  to  the  lot  of  some  of  them  soon 
or  late,  and,  as  charlatanry  is  the  very  soul  of  modern 
business,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  show  how  the  humble 
artisan  worked  his  elephant. 

We  never  allowed  ourselves  to  drop  casually,  upon  any 
place,  like  a  shower  of  rain. 

A  man  in  bright  livery,  green  and  gold,  mounted  on  a 
showy  horse,  used  to  ride  into  the  town  or  village,  and 
go  round  to  all  the  kins,  making  loud  inquiries  about 
their  means  of  accommodation  for  the  elephant  and  her 
train.  Four  hours  after  him,  thf  people  being  now  a 
little  agog,  another  green  and  g^f  -  -  man  came  in  on  a 
trained  horse,  and  inquired  for  No.  1*  As  soon  as  he  had 
found  him,  the  two  rode  together  round  the  town — No. 
2  blowing  a  trumpet  and  proclaiming  the  elephant ;  the 
nations  she  had  instructed  in  the  wonders  of  nature ;  the 
Icings  she  had  amused ;  her  grandeur,  her  intelligence, 
and,  above  all,  her  dove-like  disposition. 

This  was  allowed  to  ferment  for  some  hours,  and,  when 


JACK    OK    ALL    TRADES.  3i>5 

expectation  was  at  its  height,  the  rest  of  the  cavalcade 
used  to  heave  in  sight,  Djek  bringing  up  the  rear.  Ar- 
rived, I  used  to  shut  her  hi  out  of  sight,  and  send  all  my 
men  and  horses  round,  parading,  trumpeting,  and  pasting 
bills,  so  that  at  last  the  people  were  quite  ripe  for  her, 
and  then  we  went  to  work ;  and  thus  the  humble  artisan 
and  his  elephant  cut  a  greater  dash  than  lions,  and  tigers, 
and  mountebanks,  and  quacks,  and  drew  more  money. 

Here  is  one  of  my  programmes ;  only  I  must  remark 
that  I  picked  up  my  French,  where  I  picked  up  the  sin- 
cerity it  embodies,  in  the  circuses,  coulisses,  and  cabarets 
of  French  towns,  so  that  I  can  patter  French  as  fast  as 
you  like ;  but,  of  course,  I  know  no  more  about  it  than  a 
pig — not  to  really  know  it. 

Par  permission  de  M.  le  Haire, 

Le  grand 

ELEPHANT 

du  Roi  de  Siam, 

Du  Cirque  Olympique  Franconi. 

Mile.  Djek, 

Elephant  colossal,  de  onze  pieds  de  hauteur  et  du  poids 
de  neuf  mille  liv.,  est  le  plus  grand  eldphant  qui  1'on 
ait  vti  en  Europe. 

M.  H.  B.  Lott,  naturaliste,  pourvoyeur  des  menageries 
des  diverses  cours  d'Europe,  actionnaire  du  Cirque  Olym- 
pique et  proprietaire  de  ce  magnifique  elephant,  qu'il  a 
dresse  au  point  de  le  p^senter  au  public  dans  une  piece 
theatrale  qui  fut  cre^  ^^t&ur  Madlle.  Djek  il  y  a  trois  ans 
et  demi,  et  qui  a  ei  in  si  grand  succes,  sous  le  nom  de 
1'Elephant  du  Roi  de  Siam. 

Le  proprietaire,  dans  son  voyage  autour  du  monde,  eut 
occasion  d'acheter  cet  enorme  quadrupede,  qui  le  prit  en 
affection,  et  qui,  depuis  onze  ans  qu'il  le  possede,  ne  s'est 
jamais  dementi,  se  plait  a  ecouter  son  maitre  et  execute 
avec  punctualite  tout  ce  qu'il  lui  indique  de  faire. 


326  JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES. 

Mile.  Djek,  qui  est  dans  toute  la  force  de  sa  taille,  a 
maintenant  cent  vingt-cinq  ans;  elle  a  onze  pieds  de 
hauteur — et  pese  neuf  mille  livres. 

Sa  consommation  dans  les  vingt-quatre  heures  excede 
deux  cent  livres — quarante  livres  de  pain  pour  son  de- 
jeuner ;  a  midi,  du  son  et  de  1'avoine ;  le  soir,  des  pommes 
de  terre  ou  du  rizcuit ;  et  la  nuit  du  foin  et  de  la  paille. 

C'est  le  meme  elephant  qui  a  combattu  la  lionne  de  M. 
Martin.  Cette  lionne  en  furie,  qu'une  imprudence  fit 
sortir  de  sa  cage,  s'elance  sur  M.  H.  B.  Lott  qui  se  trou- 
vait  aupres  de  son  elephant;  voyant  le  danger  il  se 
refugie  derriere  une  des  jambes  de  ce  bon  animal,  qui 
releve  sa  trompe  pour  le  proteger.*  La  lionne  allait 
saisir  M.  H.  B.  Lott ;  1' elephant  la  voit,  rabat  sa  trompe, 
1'enveloppe,  1'etouffe,  la  jette  au  loin,  et  I'aurait  ecrasee, 
si  son  maitre  ne  lui  eut  dit  de  ne  pas  continuer. 

Elle  a  ensuite  allonge  sa  trompe,  frappe  du  pied,  criant 
et  temoignant  la  satisfaction,  qu'elle  eprouvait  d'avoir 
sauve  son  ami  d'une  mort  certaine,  comme  on  a  pu  voir 
dans  les  journaux  en  fevrier  1832. 

Dans  les  cours  des  seances,  on  lui  fera  faire  tous  ses 
grands  exercices  qui  sont  dignes  d'admiration,  dont  le 
grand  nombre  ne  permet  pas  d'en  donner  1'analyse  dans 
cette  affiche,  et  qu'il  faut  voir  pour  1'en  faire  une  idee 
juste. 

Prix  d' entree:  Premieres  Secondes  Les 

militaires  et  les  enfants,  moitie. 

I  don't  think  but  what  my  countrymen  will  understand 
every  word  of  the  above ;  but,  as  there  are  a  great  num- 
ber of  Frenchmen  in  London  who  will  read  this,  I  think 
it  would  look  unkind  not  to  translate  it  into  English  for 
their  benefit. 

*  I  am  a  dull  fellow  now,  as  you  see.  But  you  must  allow  I  have 
been  a  man  of  imagination. 


.lAc'K    OF    AJvL   TRADES.  327 

By  permission  of  the  Worshipful  the  Mayor, 

the  great 

ELEPHANT 

of  the  King  of  Siam, 

from  Franconi's  Olympic  Circus. 

Mademoiselle  Djek, 

Colossal  Elephant,  eleven  feet  high  and  weighs  nine 
thousand  pounds.  The  largest  elephant  ever  seen  in 
Europe. 

Mr.  H.  B.  Lott,  naturalist,  who  supplies  the  menageries 
of  the  various  courts  of  Europe,  shareholder  in  the  Olym- 
pic Circus,  and  proprietor  of  this  magnificent  elephant, 
which  he  has  trained  to  such  a  height  that  he  will  pre- 
sent her  to  the  public  in  a  dramatic  piece  which  was 
written  for  her  three  years  and  a  half  ago,  and  had  a 
great  success  under  the  title  of  the  Elephant  of  the  King 
of  Siam.* 

The  proprietor,  in  his  voyage  round  the  globe,  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  purchase  this  enormous  quadruped, 
which  became  attached  to  him,  and  has  been  eleven  years 
in  his  possession,  during  which  time  she  has  never  once 
forgotten  herself,  and  executes  with  obedient  zeal  what- 
ever he  bids  her. 

Mdlle.  Djek  has  now  arrived  at  her  full  growth,  being 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  of  age :  she  is  eleven 
feet  high,  and  weighs  nine  thousand  pounds.  Her  daily 
consumption  exceeds  two  hundred  pounds.  She  takes 
forty  pounds  of  bread  for  her  breakfast,  at  noon  barley 
and  oats,  in  the  evening  potatoes  or  rice  cooked,  and  at 
night  hay  and  straw. 

This  is  the  same  elephant  that  fought  with  Mr.  Mar- 

*  My  literary  gent  and  me  nearly  had  words  over  this  bit.  "  Why, 
it  is  all  nominative  case,"  says  he.  "  Well,"  says  I,  "you  can't  have 
too  much  of  a  good  thing.  Can  you  better  it?"  says  I.  "Better 
it?"  says  he ;  "  why,  I  could  not  have  come  within  a  mile  of  it ;"  and 
he  grinned.  So  I  shut  him  up — for  once. 


328  JACK    OF    ALL    TKADKS. 

tin's  lioness.  The  lioness,  whom  the  carelessness  of  the 
attendants  allowed  to  escape  from  her  cage,  dashed  furi- 
ously at  Mr.  H.  B.  Lott ;  fortunately,  he  was  near  his  ele- 
phant, and,  seeing  the  danger,  took  refuge  behind  one  of 
the  legs  of  that  valuable  animal.  She  raised  her  trunk 
in  her  master's  defense.  The  lioness  made  to  seize  him ; 
but  the  elephant  lowered  her  trunk,  seized  the  lioness, 
choked  her,  flung  her  a  distance  and  would  have  crush- 
ed her  to  death  if  Mr.  Lott  had  not  commanded  her  to 
desist.  After  that  she  extended  her  trunk,  stamped  with 
her  foot,  trumpeting  and  showing  her  satisfaction  at  hav- 
ing saved  her  friend  from  certain  death,  full  accounts  of 
which  are  to  be  seen  in  the  journals  of  February,  1832. 

In  the  course  of  the  exhibition  she  will  go  through  all 
her  exercises,  which  are  wonderful,  and  so  numerous  that 
it  is  impossible  to  enumerate  them  hi  this  bill :  they  must 
be  seen  to  form  a  just  idea  of  them. 

Prices :  First  places  Second  Soldiers  and 

children  hah0  price. 

Djek  and  I  used  to  make  our  bow  to  our  audiences  in 
the  following  fashion.  I  came  on  with  her,  and  said, 
"  Otez  mon  chapeau  pour  saluer ;"  then  she  used  to  take 
oflfmy  hat,  wave  it  gracefully,  and  replace  it  on  my  head. 
She  then  proceeded  to  pick  up  twenty  five-franc  pieces 
one  after  another,  and  keep  them  piled  hi  the  extremity 
of  her  trunk.  She  also  fired  pistols,  and  swept  her  den 
with  a  broom  in  a  most  painstaking  and  ludicrous  way. 

But  perhaps  her  best  business  in  a  real  judge's  eye  was 
drinking  a  bottle  of  wine.  The  reader  will  better  esti- 
mate this  feat  if  he  will  fancy  himself  an  elephant,  and 
lay  down  the  book  now,  and  ask  himself  how  he  would 
do  it,  and  read  the  following  afterward. 

The  bottle  (cork  drawn)  stood  before  her.  She  placed 
the  finger  and  thumb  of  her  proboscis  on  the  mouth, 
made  a  vacuum  by  suction,  and  then,  suddenly  inverting 
the  bottle,  she  received  the  contents  in  her  trunk.  The 


JACK    OJP    ALL   TRADES.  329 

difficulty  now  was  to  hold  the  bottle,  which  she  would 
not  have  broken  for  a  thousand  pounds  (my  lady  thought 
less  of  killing  ten  men  than  breaking  a  saucer),  and  yet 
not  let  the  liquor  run  from  her  flesh-pipe.  She  rapidly 
shifted  her  hold  to  the  centre  of  the  bottle,  and  worked 
it  by  means  of  the  wrinkles  in  her  proboscis  to  the  bend 
of  it.  Then  she  griped  it,  and  at  the  same  time  curled 
round  her  trunk  to  a  sloping  position,  and  let  the  wine 
run  down  her  throat.  This  done,  she  resumed  the  first 
position  of  her  trunk,  and  worked  the  bottle  back  toward 
her  finger,  suddenly  snapped  hold  of  it  by  the  neck,  and 
handed  it  gracefully  to  me. 

With  this  exception,  it  was  not  her  public  tricks  that 
astonished  me  most.  The  principle  of  all  these  tricks 
is  one.  An  animal  is  taught  to  lay  hold  of  things  at 
command,  and  to  shift  them  from  one  place  to  another. 
You  vary  the  thing  to  be  laid  hold  of,  but  the  act  is  the 
same.  In  her  drama,  which  was  so  effective  on  the  stage, 
Djek  did  nothing  out  of  the  way.  She  merely  went 
through  certain  mechanical  acts  at  a  word  of  command 
from  her  keeper,  who  was  unseen  or  unnoticed ;  i.  e.,  he 
was  either  at  the  wing  in  his  fustian  jacket,  or  on  the 
stage  with  her  in  gimcrack  and  gold,  as  one  of  a  lot  of 
slaves  or  courtiers,  or  what  not.  Between  ourselves,  a 
single  trick  I  have  several  times  caught  her  doing  on  her 
own  account  proved  more  for  her  intelligence  than  all 
these.  She  used  to  put  her  eye  to  a  keyhole.  Ay,  that 
she  would,  and  so  watch  for  hours  to  see  what  devil's 
trick  she  could  do  with  impunity — she  would  see  me  out 
of  the  way,  and  then  go  to  work.  Where  there  was  no 
keyhole  I  have  seen  her  pick  the  knot  out  of  a  deal-board, 
and  squint  through  the  little  hole  she  had  thus  made. 

A  dog  comes  next  to  an  elephant,  but  he  is  not  up  to 
looking  through  a  keyhole  or  a  crack.  He  can  think  of 
nothing  better  than  snuffing  under  the  door. 

At  one  place,  being  under  a  granary,  she  worked  a  hole 
in  the  ceiling  no  bigger  than  a  thimble,  and  sucked  down 


330  JACK    OF    ALL    TBADES. 

sackfuls  of  grain  before  she  was  found  out.  Talk  of  the 
half-reasoning  elephant :  she  seldom  met  a  man  that 
could  match  her  in  reasoning — to  a  bad  end.  Her  weak 
points  were  her  cruelty  and  cowardice,  and  by  this  latter 
Tom  Elliot  and  I  governed  her  with  a  rod  of  iron,  vul- 
garly called  a  pitchfork.  If  a  mouse  pattered  about  the 
floor  in  her  stable  Djek  used  to  tremble  all  over,  and 
whine  with  terror  till  the  little  monster  was  gone.  A 
ton  shaken  by  an  ounce. 

I  have  seen  her  start  back  in  dismay  from  a  small 
feather  floating  hi  the  air.  If  her  heart  had  been  as 
stout  as  her  will  to  do  mischief  was  strong,  mankind 
must  have  risen  to  put  her  down. 

Almost  all  you  have  ever  heard  about  the  full-grown 
elephant's  character  is  a  pack  of  falsities.  They  are 
your  servants  by  fear,  or  they  are  your  masters.  Two 
years  ago  an  elephant  killed  his  keeper  at  Liverpool  or 
Manchester,  I  forget  which.  Out  came  the  "  Times :"  he 
had  pronged  him  six  weeks  before.  How  well  I  knew 
the  old  lie ;  it  seldom  varies  a  syllable.  That  man  died 
not  because  he  had  pronged  the  animal,  but  because  he 
hadn't,  or  not  enough. 

Spare  the  pitchfork,  spoil  the  elephant. 

There  is  another  animal  people  misconstrue  just  as 
bad :  the  hyena. 

Terrible  fierce  animal,  the  hyena,  says  Bufibn  and  Co., 
and  the  world  echoes  the  chant. 

Fierce,  are  they  ?  You  get  a  score  of  them  together 
in  a  yard,  and  you  shall  see  me  walk  into  the  lot  with 
nothing  but  a  switch,  and  them  try  to  get  between  the 
brick  and  the  mortar  with  the  funk — that  is  how  fierce 
they  are ;  and  they  are  not  only  cowardly,  but  innocent, 
and  affectionate  into  the  bargain,  is  the  fierce  hyena  of 
Buffon  and  Co. ;  but,  indeed,  wild  animals  are  sadly  mis- 
understood ;  it  is  pitiable ;  and  those  that  have  the  best 
character  deserve  it  less  than  those  that  have  the  worst. 

In  one  German  town  I  met  with  something  I  should 


JACK   OF    ALL   TRADES.  83 1 

like  to  tell  the  sporting  gents,  for  I  don't  think  there  is 
many  that  ever  fell  in  with  such  a  thing.  But  it  is  an 
old  saying  that  what  does  happen  has  happened  before, 
and  may  again,  so  I  tell  this  to  put  them  on  their  guard, 
especially  in  Germany.  Well,  it  was  a  good  town  for 
business,  and  we  staid  several  days ;  but  before  we  had 
been  there  many  hours  my  horses  turned  queer.  Rest- 
less they  were,  and  uneasy.  Sweated  of  their  own  ac- 
cord. Stamped  eternally.  One,  in  particular,  began  to 
lose  flesh.  We  examined  the  hay.  It  seemed  particu- 
larly good,  and  the  oats  not  amiss.  Called  the  landlord ' 
in,  and  asked  him  if  he  could  account  for  it.  He  stands 
looking  at  them ;  this  one,  called  Dick,  was  all  in  a  lath- 
er. "  Well,  I  think  I  know  now,"  said  he ;  "  they  are 
bewitched.  You  see  there  is  an  old  woman  in  the  next 
street  that  bewitches  cattle,  and  she  rides  on  your  horses' 
backs  all  night,  you  may  take  your  oath."  Then  he  tells 
us  a  lot  of  stories,  whose  cow  died  after  giving  this  old 
wench  a  rough  word,  and  how  she  had  been  often  seen 
to  go  across  the  meadows  in  the  shape  of  a  hare.  "  She 
has  a  spite  against  me,  the  old  sorceress,"  says  he.  "  She 
has  been  at  them ;  you  had  better  send  for  the  pastor." 
"  Go  for  the  farrier,  Jem,"  says  I.  So  we  had  in  the 
farrier.  He  sat  on  the  bin  and  smoked  his  pipe  in  dead 
silence,  looking  at  them.  "  They  seem  a  little  fidgety," 
says  he,  after  about  half  an  hour.  So  I  turned  him  out 
of  the  stable.  And  I  was  in  two  minds  about  punching 
his  head,  I  was.  "  Send  for  the  veterinary  surgeon,  No. 
1."  He  came.  "They  have  got  some  disorder,"  says 
he,  "  that  is  plain ;  nostrils  are  clear,  too.  Let  me  see 
them  eat."  They  took  their  food  pretty  well.  Then  he 
asked  where  we  came  from  last.  I  told  him.  "  Well," 
said  he,  cheerfully,  "  this  is  a  murrain,  I  think.  In  this 
country  we  do  invent  a  new  murrain  about  every  twenty 
years.  We  are  about  due  now."  He  spoke  English, 
this  one — quite  a  fine  gentleman.  One  of  the  grooms 
put  in,  "  I  think  the  water  is  poisoned."  "  Anyway," 


332  JACK    OF   ALL   TRAUKS. 

says  another,  "  Dick  will  die  if  we  stay  here."  So  then 
they  both  pressed  me  to  leave  the  town.  "  You  know, 
governor,  we  can't  afford  to  lose  the  horses."  Now  I 
was  clearing  ten  pounds  a  day  in  the  place,  and  all  ex- 
penses paid ;  so  I  looked  blank.  So  did  the  veterinary. 
"  I  wouldn't  go,"  says  he ;  "  wait  a  day  or  two  ;  then  the 
disease  will  declare  itself,  and  we  shall  know  what  we 
are  doing."  You  see,  gents,  he  did  not  relish  my  taking 
a  murrain  out  of  his  town ;  he  was  a  veterinary.  "  What- 
ever it  is,"  says  he,  "  you  brought  it  with  you."  "  Well, 
"now,"  said  I,  "my  opinion  is  I  found  it  here.  Did  you 
notice  any  thing  at  the  last  place,  Nick  ?"  "  No :"  the 
grooms  both  bore  me  out.  "  Oh !"  says  the  vet.,  "  you 
can't  go  by  that :  it  had  not  declared  itself."  Well,  if 
you  will  believe  me  (I  often  laugh  when  I  think  of  it),  it 
was  not  two  minutes  after  he  said  that  that  it  did  declare 
itself.  It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  Nick  had  got  a  clean 
shirt  on.  Nick  was  currying  the  very  horse  called  Dick, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  the  sleeve  of  his  white  shirt  looked 
dirty.  "  What  now  ?"  cries  he,  and  comes  to  the  light. 
"  I  do  believe  it  is  vermin,"  says  he,  "  and  if  it  is  they  are 
eaten  up  with  it."  "Vermin?  What  vermin  can  that 
be  ?"  said  I ;  "  have  we  invented  a  new  vermin  too  ?" 
They  were  no  bigger  than  pin's  points — looked  like  dust 
on  his  shirt.  "  What  do  you  say,  sir — is  it  vermin  ?" 
"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  says  the  vet.  "  These  are  poultry- 
lice,  unless  I  am  mistaken.  Have  you  any  hens  any- 
where near?"  Both  the  grooms  burst  out,  "Hens  ?  why 
there  are  full  a  hundred  up  in  the  hay-loft."  So  that  was 
the  murrain.  The  hens  had  been  tumbling  in  the  hay ; 
the  hay  came  down  to  the  rack  all  alive  with  their  ver- 
min ;  and  the  vermin  were  eating  the  horses.  We  stop- 
ped that  supply  of  hay ;  and  what  with  currying,  and 
washing  with  a  solut.  the  vet.  gave  us,  we  cured  that 
murrain — chicken-pox,  if  any.  We  had  a  little  scene  at 
going  away  from  this  place.  Landlord  had  agreed  to 
charge  nothing  for  the  use  of  stabling,  we  spent  so  much 


JACK    OF    ALL   TRADES.  333 

in  other  ways  with  him.  In  spite  of  that,  he  put  it  down 
at  the  foot  of  the  list.  I  would  not  pay.  "  You  must." 
"  I  won't."  "  Then  you  shan't  go  till  you  do ;"  and  with 
that  he  and  his  servants  closed  the  great  gates.  The 
yard  was  entered  by  two  great  double  doors  like  barn 
doors,  secured  outside  by  a  stout  beam.  So  there  he  had 
us  fast.  It  got  wind,  and  there  was  the  whole  popula- 
tion hooting  outside,  three  thousand  strong.  Then  it 
was,  "  Come,  don't  be  a  fool." 

"Don't  you 'be  a  fool." 

"  Stand  clear,"  said  I  to  the  man ;  "  we  will  alter  our 
usual  line  of  march  this  time ;  I'll  take  Djek  from  the 
rear  to  the  front."  So  they  all  formed  behind  me  and 
Djek,  two  carriages,  and  six  horses,  all  in  order.  "  Now," 
said  I,  "  landlord,  you  have  had  your  joke,  open  the  door, 
and  let  us  part  friends ;  we  have  been  with  you  a  week, 
you  know,  and  you  have  had  one  profit  out  of  us,  and 
another  out  of  the  townsfolk  we  brought  to  your  bar. 
Open  the  door." 

"  Pay  me  my  bill,  and  I'll  open,"  says  he.  "  If  I  turn- 
ed away  one  traveler  from  my  stable  for  you  I've  turned 
away  twenty." 

"  A  bargain  is  a  bargain.  Will  you  open  before  she 
knocks  your  door  into  toothpicks  ?" 

"  Oh !  I'll  risk  my  door  if  you'll  risk  your  beast.  No, 
I  won't  open  till  I  am  paid." 

"  Once,  will  you  open  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Twice,  will  you  open  ?    Thrice  ?" 

"No." 

"Djek— Go!" 

She  walked  lazily  at  the  door,  as  if  she  did  not  see  it. 
The  moment  she  touched  it  both  doors  were  in  the  road ; 
the  beam  was  in  half  in  the  road.  Most  times  one  thing 
stands,  another  goes ;  here  it  all  went  bodily  on  all  sides 
like  paper  on  a  windy  day,  and  the  people  went  fastest 
of  all.  There  was  the  yell  of  a  multitude  under  our  noses, 


334  JACK    OP   All*  TBADES. 

then  an  empty  street  under  our  eyes.    We  marched  on 
calm,  majestical,  and  unruffled  beneath  the  silent  night. 

Doors  and  bolts,  indeed,  to  a  lady  that  had  stepped 
through  a  brick  wall  before  that  day — an  English  brick 
wall. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FROM  Strasbourg  I  determined  to  go  into  Switzerland ; 
above  all,  to  Geneva.  I  could  not  help  it.  In  due  course 
of  time  and  travel  I  arrived  near  Geneva,  and  sent  for- 
ward my  green  and  gold  avant-couriers ;  but,  alas !  they 
returned  with  the  doleful  news  that  elephants  were  not 
admitted  into  that  ancient  city.  The  last  elephant  that 
had  been  there  had  done  mischief,  and,  at  the  request  of 
its  proprietor,  Madlle.  Gamier,  a  young  lady  whose  con- 
science smote  her,  for  she  had  another  elephant  that  kill- 
ed one  or  two  people  in  Venice,  was  publicly  executed  in 
the  fortress.* 

Fortunately  (as  I  then  thought),  I  had  provided  my- 
self with  testimonials  from  the  mayor  and  governors  of 
some  score  of  towns  through  which  we  had  passed.  I 
produced  these,  and  made  friends  in  the  town,  particular- 
ly with  a  Dr.  Mayo.  At  last  we  were  admitted.  Djek 
was  proved  a  dove  by  such  overpowering  testimony.  I 
had  now  paid  M.  Huguet  six  thousand  francs  and  found 
myself  possessed  of  five  thousand  more.  Business  was 
very  good  in  Geneva.  Djek  was  very  popular.  Her  in- 
telligence and  amiability  became  a  by-word.  I  had  but 

one  bitter  disappointment,  though.  Madlle. never 

came  to  see  us,  and  I  was  too  sulky  and  too  busy  to  hunt 
for  her.  Besides,  I  said  to  myself,  "  All  the  world  can 
find  me,  and  if  she  cared  a  button  for  me  she  would  come 
to  light."  I  tried  to  turn  it  off  with  the  old  song : 

*  They  gave  this  elephant  an  ounce  of  prussic  acid  and  an  ounce 
of  arsenic ;  neither  of  these  sedatives  producing  any  effect,  they  fired 
a  cannon  ball  through  her  neck. 


JACK    OF   ALL   TRADES.  335 

"Now  get  ye  gone,  ye  scornful  dame ; 
If  you  are  proud,  I'll  be  the  same. 
I  make  no  doubt  that  I  shall  find 
As  pretty  a  girl  onto  my  mind." 

Behold  me  now  at  the  climax  of  prosperity,  dressed 
like  a  gentleman,  driving  a  pair  of  horses,  proprietor  of 
a  whole  cavalcade  and  of  an  elephant,  and  after  clearing 
all  expenses,  making  at  the  rate  of  full  £600  per  annum. 
There  was  a  certain  clergyman  of  the  place  used  to  visit 
us  about  every  day,  and  bring  her  cakes  and  things  to 
eat,  till  he  got  quite  fond  of  her,  and  believed  that  she 
returned  his  affection.  I  used  to  beg  him  not  to  go  so 
close  to  her.  On  this,  his  answer  was,  "  Why,  you  say 
she  is  harmless  as  a  chicken ;"  so  then  I  had  no  more  to 
say.  Well,  one  unlucky  day  I  turned  my  back  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  before  I  could  get  back  there  were  the  old  sounds, 
a  snort  of  rage,  and  a  cry  of  terror,  and  there  was  the 
poor  minister  in  her  trunk.  At  sight  of  me  she  dropped 
him,  but  two  of  his  ribs  were  broken,  and  he  was  quite 
insensible,  and  the  people  rushed  out  in  terror.  We 
raised  the  clergyman  and  carried  him  home,  and  in  half 
an  hour  a  mob  was  before  the  door,  and  stones  as  big  as 
your  fists  thrown  in  at  the  windows :  this,  however,  was 
stopped  by  the  authorities.  But  the  next  day  my  lady 
was  arrested  and  walked  off  to  the  fortress,  and  there 
confined.  I  remonstrated,  expostulated — in  vain.  I  had 
now  to  feed  her  and  no  return  from  her :  ruin  stared  me 
in  the  face.  So  I  went  to  law  with  the  authorities.  Law 
is  slow,  and  Djek  was  eating  all  the  time.  Ruin  looked 
nearer  still.  The  law  ate  my  green  and  gold  servants 
and  horses,  and  still  Djek  remained  in  quod.  Then  I  re- 
fused to  feed  her  any  longer,  and  her  expenses  fell  upon 
the  town.  Her  appetite  and  their  poverty  soon  brought 
matters  to  a  climax.  They  held  a  sort  of  municipal  tri- 
bunal, and  tried  her  for  an  attempt  at  homicide.  I  got 
counsel  to  defend  her,  for  I  distrusted  my  own  temper 
and  French. 


336  JACK    OF    AT.T.   TRADES. 

I  can't  remember  half  the  fine  things  he  said,  but  there 
was  one  piece  of  common  sense  I  do  remember.  He 
said,  "  The  animal,  I  believe,  is  unconscious  of  her  great 
strength,  and  has  committed  a  fatal  error  rather  than  a 
crime ;  still,  if  you  think  she  is  liable  to  make  such  errors, 
let  her  die  rather  than  kill  men.  But  how  do  you  recon- 
cile to  your  consciences  to  punish  her  proprietor,  to  rob 
him  of  his  subsistence  ?  He  has  committed  no  crime,  he 
has  been  guilty  of  no  want  of  caution.  If,  therefore,  you 
take  upon  yourselves  to  punish  the  brute,  be  honest !  buy 
her  of  the  man  first,  and  then  assert  your  sublime  office 
— destroy  an  animal  that  has  offended  morality.  But  a 
city  should  be  above  wronging  or  robbing  an  individual." 
When  he  sat  down  I  thought  my  homicide  was  safe,  for 
I  knew  Geneva  could  not  afford  to  buy  an  elephant  with- 
out it  was  out  .of  a  Noah's  ark. 

But  up  gets  an  orator  on  the  other  side  and  attacked 
me ;  accused  me  of  false  representations,  of  calling  a 
demon  a  duck.  "We  have  certain  information  from 
France  that  this  elephant  has  been  always  wounding  and 
killing  men  up  and  down  Europe  these  twenty  years. 
Mons.  Loett  knew  this  by  universal  report,  and  by  being 
an  eyewitness  of  more  than  one  man's  destruction." 
Here  there  was  a  sensation,  I  can  tell  you.  "  He  has, 
therefore,  forfeited  all  claims  to  consideration."  Then  he 
thundered  out,  "  Let  no  man  claim  to  be  wiser  than 
Holy  Writ ;  there  we  are  told  that  a  lie  is  a  crime  of  the 
very  deepest  dye,  and  here  we  see  how  for  years  false- 
hood has  been  murder."  Then  I  mind  he  took  just  the 
opposite  line  to  my  defender.  Says  he,  "  If  I  hesitate  for 
a  moment,  it  is  not  for  the  man's  sake,  but  for  the  brute's ; 
but  I  do  not  hesitate.  I  could  wish  so  majestic  a  crea- 
ture might  be  spared  for  our  instruction,"  says  he,  "  that 
so  wonderful  a  specimen  of  the  Creator's  skill  might  still 
walk  the  earth;  but  reason,  and  justice,  and  humanity 
say  '  No.'  There  is  an  animal  far  smaller,  yet  ten  times 
more  important,  for  he  has  a  soul ;  and  this,  the  king  of 


JACK    OF   ALL  TKADES.  337 

all  the  animals,  is  not  safe  while  she  lives ;  therefore  she 
ought  to  die.  Weaker  far  than  her  in  his  individual 
strength,  he  is  a  thousand  times  stronger  by  combination 
and  science — therefore  she  will  die." 

When  this  infernal  chatter-box  shut  up,  my  heart  sunk 
into  my  shoes.  He  was  a  prig,  but  an  eloquent  one,  and 
he  walked  into  Djek  and  me  till  we  were  not  worth  half 
an  hour's  purchase. 

For  all  that,  the  council  did  not  come  to  a  decision  on 
the  spot,  and  I  believe  that  if  Djek  had  but  been  content 
to  kill  the  laity  as  heretofore,  we  should  have  scraped 
through  with  a  fine ;  but  the  fool  must  go  and  tear  black 
cloth,  and  dig  her  own  grave. 

Two  days  after  the  trial,  out  came  the  sentence — 
Death! 

With  that  modesty  and  good  feeling  which  belongs  to 
most  foreign  governments,  they  directed  me  to  execute 
their  sentence. 

My  answer  came  in  English.  "  I'll  see  you  d — d,  and 
double  d — d  first,  and  then  I  won't." 

Meantime  Huguet  was  persecuting  poor  heart-sick  me 
for  the  remainder  of  her  purchase-money,  and,  what  with 
the  delay,  the  expenses,  and  the  anxiety,  I  was  so  down 
and  so  at  the  end  of  my  wits  and  my  patience  that  her 
sentence  fell  on  me  like  a  blow  on  a  chap  that  is  benumb- 
ed— produced  less  effect  upon  me  at  the  time  than  it  does 
when  I  think  of  it  now. 

Well — curse  them ! — one  fine  morning  they  ran  a  can- 
non up  to  the  gate,  loaded  it,  and  bade  me  call  the  ele- 
phant, and  bring  her  into  a  favorable  position  for  being 
shot.  I  refused  point  blank  in  English  as  before.  They 
threatened  me  for  my  contumacy.  I  answered  they 
might  shoot  me  if  they  liked,  but  I  would  not  be  the  one 
to  destroy  my  own  livelihood. 

So  they  had  to  watch  their  opportunity. 

It  was  not  long  of  coming. 

She  began  to  walk  about,  and  presently  the  poor  fool 
P 


338  JACK   OF   ALL  TRADES. 

marched  right  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth  and  squinted 
down  it.  Then  she  turned,  and  at  last  she  crossed  right 
before  it.  The  gunner  took  the  opportunity,  applied  his 
linstock,  and  fired.  There  was  a  great  tongue  of  flame 
and  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  through  the  smoke  something 
as  big  as  a  house  was  seen  to  go  down :  the  very  earth 
trembled  at  the  shock. 

The  smoke  cleared  in  a  moment,  and  there  lay  Djek. 
She  never  moved.  The  round  shot  went  clean  through 
her  body,  and  struck  the  opposite  wall  with  great  force. 
It  was  wonderful  and  sad  to  see  so  huge  a  creature  rob- 
bed of  her  days  in  a  moment  by  a  spark.  There  she  lay 
— poor  Djek. 

In  one  moment  I  forgot  all  her  faults.  She  was  an  old 
companion  of  mine  in  many  a  wet  day  and  dreary  night. 
She  was  reputation  to  me  and  a  clear  six  hundred  a 
year ;  and  then  she  was  so  clever !  We  shall  never  see 
her  like  again ;  and  there  she  lay.  I  mourned  over  her, 
right  or  wrong,  and  have  never  been  the  same  man  since 
that  shot  was  fired. 

The  butchery  done,  I  was  informed  by  the  municipal 
authorities  that  the  carcass  was  considered,  upon  the 
whole,  to  be  my  property.  The  next  moment  I  had  two 
hundred  applications  for  elephant  steaks  from  the  pinch- 
gut  natives,  who,  I  believe,  knew  gravy  by  tradition  and 
romances  that  had  come  all  the  way  from  Paris.  Knives 
and  scales  went  to  work,  and,  with  the  tears  running 
down  my  cheeks,  I  sold  her  beef  at  four  sous  per  pound 
for  about  £40  sterling. 

This  done,  all  my  occupation  was  gone.  Geneva  was 
no  place  for  me,  and  as  the  worthy  Huguet,  whose  life  I 
had  saved,  threatened  to  arrest  me,  I  determined  to  go 
back  to  England  and  handicraft.  Two  days  after  Djek's 
death  I  was  hanging  sorrowfully  over  the  bridge,  when 
some  one  drew  near  to  me  and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  Mons. 
Loett.  I  had  no  need  to  look  up.  I  knew  the  voice ;  it 
was  my  lost  sweetheart.  She  spoke  very  kindly,  blush- 


JACK   OF   ALL  TKADES.  339 

ed,  and  welcomed  me  to  her  native  country.  She  did 
more ;  she  told  me  she  lived  five  miles  from  Geneva,  and 
invited  me  to  visit  her  mother.  She  took  occasion  to  let 
me  know  that  her  father  was  dead :  "  My  mother  refuses 
me  nothing,"  she  added,  with  another  blush.  This  was 
all  like  a  dream  to  me.  The  next  day  I  visited  her  and 
her  mother,  and  was  cordially  received ;  in  short,  it  was 
made  clear  to  me  that  my  misfortune  had  endeared  me 
to  this  gem  of  a  girl  instead  of  repelling  her.  An  uncle, 
too,  had  died,  and  left  her  three  hundred  pounds,  arid 
this  made  her  bolder  still ;  and  she  did  not  conceal  her 
regard  for  me.  She  told  me  she  had  seen  me  once  in 
Geneva  driving  two  showy  horses  in  a  carriage  and  look- 
ing like  a  nobleman,  and  so  had  hesitated  to  claim  the 
acquaintance ;  but,  hearing  the  elephant's  execution,  and 
guessing  that  I  could  no  longer  be  on  the  high  road  to 
fortune,  she  had  obeyed  her  heart,  and  been  the  first  to 
remind  me  I  had  once  esteemed  her. 

In  short,  a  Pearl. 

I  made  her  a  very  bad/eturn  for  so  much  goodness. 
I  went  and  married  her.  We  then  compounded  with 
Huguet  for  three  thousand  francs,  and  sailed  for  En- 
gland to  begin  the  world  again. 

The  moment  I  got  to  London  I  made  for  the  Seven 
Dials  to  see  my  friend  Paley. 

On  the  way  I  met  a  mutual  acquaintance ;  told  him 
where  I  was  going — red  hot. 

He  shook  his  head  and  said  nothing. 

A  chill  came  over  me.  If  you  had  stuck  a  knife  in  me 
I  shouldn't  have  bled.  I  gasped  out  some  sort  of  in- 
quiry. 

"  Why,  you  know  he  was  not  a  young  man,"  says  he ; 
and  he  looked  down. 

That  was  enough  for  such  an  unlucky  one  as  me.  I 
began  to  cry  directly.  "Don't  ye  take  on,"  says  he. 
"  Old  man  died  happy.  Come  home  with  me ;  my  wife 
will  tell  you  more  about  it  than  I  can." 


340  JACK   OF    ATT,   TRADES. 

I  was  loath  to  go ;  but  he  persuaded  me.  His  -wife 
told  me  the  old  gentleman  spoke  of  me  to  the  last,  and 
had  my  letters  read  out,  and  boasted  of  my  success. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  he  would  rise  ?"  he  used  to  say ; 
and  then,  it  seems,  he  made  much  of  some  little  presents 
I  had  sent  him  from  Paris,  and  them  such  trifles  com- 
pared with  what  I  owed  him :  "  Doesn't  forget  old  friends 
now  he  is  at  the  top  of  the  tree ;"  and  then  burst  out 
praising  me,  by  all  accounts. 

So,  then,  it  was  a  little  bit  of  comfort  to  think  he  had 
died  while  I  was  prosperous,  and  that  my  disappointment 
had  never  reached  his  warm  and  feeling  heart. 

A  workman  has  little  time  to  grieve  outwardly ;  he 
must  dry  his  eyes  quickly,  let  his  heart  be  ever  so  sad,  or 
he'll  look  queer  when  Saturday  night  comes.  You  can't 
make  a  workmanlike  joint  with  the  tear  in  your  eye ;  one 
half  the  joiners  can't  do  it  with  their  glasses  on.  And  I 
was  a  workman  once  more ;  I  had  to  end  as  I  began. 

I  returned  to  the  violin  trade,  and,  by  a  very  keen  at- 
tention to  its  mysteries,  I  made  progress,  and  having  a 
foreign  connection,  I  imported  and  sold  to  English  deal- 
ers, as  well  as  made,  varnished,  and  doctored  violins. 
But  soon  the  trade,  through  foreign  competition,  declined 
to  a  desperate  state.  I  did  not  despair,  but  to  eke  out,  I 
set  my  wife  up  in  a  china  and  curiosity  shop  in  Wardour 
Street,  and  worked  at  my  own  craft  in  the  back  parlor. 
I  had  no  sooner  done  this  than  the  writers  all  made  it 
their  business  to  sneer  at  Wardour  Street,  and  now  no- 
body dares  buy  in  that  street ;  so,  since  I  began  this  tale, 
we  have  closed  the  shop — it  only  wasted  their  time — 
they  are  much  better  out  walking,  and  getting  fresh  air, 
at  least,  for  their  trouble.  I  attend  sales,  and  never  lose 
a  chance  of  turning  a  penny ;  at  home  I  make,  and  mend, 
and  doctor  fiddles  ;  I  carve  wood ;  I  clean  pictures  and 
gild  frames ;  I  cut  ovit  fruit  and  flowers  in  leather ;  I 
teach  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  gild  at  so  much  a  lesson ; 
and  by  these  and  a  score  more  of  little  petty  arts  I  just 
keep  the  pot  boiling. 


JACK    OP   ALL   TRADES.  341 

I  am,  as  I  have  been  all  my  life,  sober,  watchful,  enter- 
prising, energetic,  and  unlucky. 

In  early  life  I  played  for  a  great  stake — affluence. 

I  think  I  may  say  I  displayed  in  the  service  of  Djek 
some  of  those  qualities  by  which,  unless  books  are  false, 
men  have  won  campaigns  and  battles,  and  reaped  for- 
-  tunes  and  reputations :  result  in  my  case,  a  cannon  shot 
fired  in  a  dirty  little  village  calling  itself  a  city,  in  a  coun- 
try that  Yorkshire  could  eat  up  and  spit  out  again,  after 
all  the  great  kingdoms  and  repubs.  had  admired  her  and 
forgiven  her  her  one  defect — a  tongue  of  fire — a  puff  of 
smoke — and  all  the  perils,  labor,  courage,  and  persever- 
ance of  eleven  years  blown  away  like  dust  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven. 

I  am  now  playing  for  a  smaller  stake ;  but  I  am  now, 
as  usual,  playing  my  very  best.  I  am  bending  all  my 
experience  of  work  and  trade,  all  my  sobriety,  activity, 
energy,  and  care,  all  my  cunning  of  eye  and  hand,  to  one 
end — not  to  die  in  the  work-house. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  workman  has  said  his  say, 
and  I  hope  the  company  have  been  amused. 


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